Fury
by Emagen Laile
Summary: Cate Moon is your average witch, with a dull but paying job, a large family that doesn't know how to leave her alone, and a little secret of her own. GW/OC Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Fury**

**Chapter One**

**Meetings and Greetings**

Catherine Moon woke up slowly, the sun peaking through the heavy dark gray curtains. She stretched her arms over her head and opened her pale blue eyes. She stood slowly, trying not to disturb the lanky sleeping body of her extremely fluffy gray and brown tabby, Mimi. She made sure that the sleeping cat had a nest left over and pulled off her long nightgown, dropping it into a pile on the floor next to all of her other clothes. Her mother hated her piles of clothing, but there was no one else around to comment on them, so she ignored them.

She stepped into the shower that was always too hot, hoping that it wouldn't cut out before she had washed her hair. Luck was with her today- the water lasted fifteen whole minutes before it began to sputter and die.

She took her time brushing and drying her hair- she had at least an hour and a half before work. Walking to her closet, she threw the doors open and stared at the rather small assortment of work robes. There was a strict dress code for witches- she pulled out the high-necked black dress and tight, plain light green robes that went over it.

Cate worked at the apothecary on Diagon Alley, and while she understood the reason for the dress code- if volatile ingredients mixed on long sleeves, the damage would be devastating- it still didn't look very feminine. She could hear her mother's voice in her head- "If you were more like your sister…" Isabelle could make the robes look like they had just come off of a model in a magazine. She laced up the dress with her wand- not having a roommate made buttoning nearly fifty tiny buttons very difficult- and pulled on the high boots. Her dark curls, long and usually wild, lay in a neat braid down her back. The clean, if slightly wrinkled, robe was thrown over it all.

Cate looked at herself in the mirror. She would have guessed her age at closer to thirty, even though she was only twenty-two. _Twenty-three, today_, her calendar was quick to point out. Her blue eyes were nearly hidden by dark curls, and her face, she was critical enough to note, had dark bags under her eyes, her mouth was too wide, and her nose just a bit too aquiline. And unlike nearly everyone she knew, she was off to work in a dreary job, and there wasn't even the small glimmer of hope that she would get to go out with her friends tonight. She had to work tonight, too, and there was absolutely no chance to get out of it.

Patting Mimi on the head one last time, she walked quickly to the door and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. At least she could shop a little before work.

Birthdays were the worst.

* * *

Today was especially busy, for some reason. Yes, it was the end of October, but Halloween wasn't for another week, so why would they sell out of eye of newt? Bat wings? And it seemed that every little deary from the countryside was coming to their store, instead of their own nearby establishment. She had restocked the newt eyes twice now, and it wasn't even lunchtime.

They hadn't been this busy since the end of August. Normally, she thrived in an environment such as this, helping people, putting on a cheerful front and working hard, but today, of all days, she felt trapped and claustrophobic. There were two other people working with her at the shop, and they seemed as frazzled as she did. The woman who ran the checkout counter, the new blond girl hired just before August, looked to be near to tears. The owner, Madame Pine, worked exclusively with the wealthier clientele; she was extremely good at getting large sales from them.

When lunch came around, the shoppers seemed to slack off, but there were enough left that they could only take their lunch one at a time. Since she had gone first the last time, she was going last today. Even Madame Pine, who normally left to eat at one of the few tiny shops along the Alley, ate in the back room and swore she wouldn't return to the front until closing.

It was nearly two before Cate got to leave, and then she was told to eat quickly. The other girls- Sara and Electra- had each taken their sweet time, and yet she was to be back in half an hour minutes, and not a minute later. Cate threw her robe- now with the lovely addition of a dragon-blood stain- on the rack and rushed out the door, forgetting, in her haste, that there was a bit of a chill in the air. She nearly knocked over an elderly wizard entering the shop. After straightening him out, she spun away towards the Leaky Cauldron. If she hurried, they would still be serving lunch.

Rushing down the street, shivering, she was stopped by several slow-moving shoppers going in the other direction. She danced on her toes as she waited for them to pass, and then darted around them. She didn't notice the door open on the shop just in front of her, so focused was she on getting to the Leaky Cauldron. She didn't have time to think before she walked right into a tall person wrapped in a dark orange cloak. Packages flew everywhere, and the person let out a string of expletives that would have made her brothers proud.

She grabbed several of the small packages and was reaching for another when a strong hand gripped her by the collar of her dress and hauled her up unceremoniously. A low voice, extremely tense, nearly growled at her.

"Watch where you're going!"

Her eyes flashed. "Why don't you? Not my fault you didn't see me!"

There was a flash of recognition in his eyes. "Do I know you?"

Cate glared. "I certainly don't know you!"

The person laughed. "You look like a classmate of mine…Izzie Moon, right?"

Cate sighed. Fantastic. "No, I'm not _Izzie_. Isabelle would have had your eyeballs removed before she let you call her that. I'm her sister, Cate."

The man struck out his hand. "Sorry. Pleased to meet you. I'm George Weasley."

Cate felt one of her eyebrows lift of its own accord. "No, you're not. The Weasleys all have red hair and freckles. You have neither." His face was harsh, with angular cheekbones, a heavy nose and brows, and long, stringy blond hair.

The man laughed again. "Right, well, call it an experiment gone awry. Apparently, you can't mix a chameleon charm with a Daydream in a Box spell. Nasty side effects. Should wear off in a day or two." He grabbed the remaining packages from the street. "Where are you headed? I'll come with you."

Cate shivered. "Why? I don't need a big, strong man to walk me along a street."

He frowned. "Where's your cloak? It's freezing." He paused. "And now I sound like my Mum. I was just wondering if you could help me get these to the Leaky Cauldron. Have to Floo them to a customer, and I could use the help."

Cate sighed in defeat. "Fine. Hand me those small ones." They walked in silence for a minute before George, his blue eyes shining, began to speak.

"Sorry about the whole running into you thing. Won't happen again."

Cate barked a laugh. "Too right it won't. You'll have to start watching where you're going, so you don't bowl over innocent passersby in the future."

There was another pause as they skirted around two small boys staring into the Quidditch Supply Shop.

"I know I've seen you before. It's not just that you look like your sister…"

Cate snorted. "I do not."

George grinned. "Other than the obvious difference of your hair color, you really do look like Izzie Moon."

Cate actually laughed. "Right. Just like an owl looks like a toad."

George grunted. "Sure. Other than that, I'm sure I've seen you around."

Cate looked at him sideways. "You have. A year ago, at the Hogwarts Memorial Banquet."

George actually blushed. "You were there?"

Cate grinned. "Yes, and everyone and their mother knows that you were there. It was in the papers the next day. Your sister showed everyone."

George stammered a few words before settling on something innocuous. "You know Ginny?"

Cate nodded. "Yeah, we were partners in Potions."

George frowned at her. "I don't remember you in Gryffindor."

He pulled his wand out from under the pile of packages and tapped the brick wall to let them into the Leaky Cauldron.

Cate followed him in, shutting the door quickly and letting the heat from the blazing fireplace soak into her. "I wasn't a Gryffindor. I was a Ravenclaw, actually."

George nodded. "Hm. I would have thought you would have been in the same House as Izzie."

Cate snorted inelegantly. "Right. Isabelle was the only one in the family to be in Slytherin in something like fifty years. She was extremely proud of that."

George nodded to Tom, who handed him the container of Floo powder. George led the way through the empty tables to the fireplace. "Wasn't there a Moon in Gryffindor, though?"

Cate smiled as she set the packages on a table and sank into the chair. "Yeah. My brother, Nathan. He was a year under you."

George nodded. "Right. Hang on a sec." He threw the powder into the fireplace and said, "The Blue Duck!" A few seconds later, an elderly woman's head appeared in the fireplace.

"Can I help you?"

George smiled. "I have a delivery for one of your guests, a Mister Northoben. He asked me to deliver them by Floo? Room 18?"

The woman smiled, and her eyes disappeared into wrinkles. "Of course. Send them through. I'll make sure he gets them."

George nodded, nearly hitting his head on the mantle. "Sure. Thanks."

He began sending the packages through one by one. By the time he finished, the flames were nearly their normal color.

After the last package was through, he stood slowly and turned to face Cate. "Thank you very much, Cate. Can I walk you back to your shop?" He held out an arm, and Cate giggled.

"Actually, I'm here for lunch." She turned to watch his reaction. It was almost as if… "Do you…do you want to join me?"

George grinned. "Can't say no to a beautiful woman, can I?"

* * *

Cate ran back into the shop nearly an hour and a half after she had left. The other two girls glared at her as she threw her robes back on. Madame Pine pointed to a crate of tiny bottles of dragon's blood. Cate levitated it in front of her and began to restock the shelves, not having to be told that she was in trouble. Madame Pine's face said it all.

When the shop finally closed at seven, Madame Pine sent Sara and Electra home and locked the door. Then she turned to face Cate, her face a mask.

"Where did you go for lunch today?"

Cate hung her head. "The Leaky Cauldron," she whispered.

Madame Pine glared. "And I gave you how long for lunch, Miss Moon?"

Cate sighed. "Half an hour."

Madame Pine's lips thinned. "That's right. Half an hour. Which, considering how busy we were this afternoon, was quite a boon for you, Miss Moon. Let me tell you now, that will not happen again. Let this be a warning."

Cate nodded. "Yes, Madame Pine."

The woman sighed, still annoyed. "You may go."

Cate turned and practically ran out the door. She made it to the Leaky Cauldron in record time, just fast enough to Apparate home before her lessons. She sighed when she saw the goblet and a sandwich on the kitchen counter, next to a note in her sister's elaborate handwriting.

_Catherine, _

_Take the potion straight away. Your provider was kind enough to drop it off at the Manor, so I took the liberty of sending it to you. I also had Opal clean your apartment. It was quite filthy. Wear something nice tonight; the cousins are coming and no one wants you to appear as you normally do. Do not embarrass me; I've selected most of your wardrobe, after all, and it's a shame you simply refuse to wear the items that would suit you best. _

_Isabelle_

_PS: Opal insisted on leaving the sandwich. _

Cate grabbed the sandwich and brought it into her bedroom. Her sister wouldn't have wanted her to assume that it was a kindness on her part, after all. The clothing that had been neatly piled on the floor was put away, and it really didn't look like her room at all. She grabbed a nice white blouse and a long gray skirt, throwing them over her work boots. The robes in the closet looked clean and pressed, so she selected her favorite, a dark burgundy with flowers at the hems. She let her hair out and brushed it, glancing at the clock as she did so. Gasping, she pulled the comb through her tangled curls. She only had ten minutes before the family dinner in her honor.

She ran out into the kitchen, skidding across the tiles. Sighing, she grabbed the goblet and took a deep breath, frowning as she looked at the greenish-brown potion. She watched the flecks of red swirl around, looking disturbingly like blood. "I hate this. I wish I didn't…but, well, here goes." She took the stopper out and chugged the potion down, wincing at the bitter and slightly metallic taste.

Wolfsbane Potion was disgusting.

* * *

Updated, as of October 2011.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fury**

**Chapter Two**

**At Home**

For the next couple of days, Cate looked for every opportunity to avoid going out on the Alley during work hours. The lunch with George had been a welcome respite, and she liked him, but she really didn't know him, and certainly did not want to get on the front page of the Daily Prophet. They had been exceptionally lucky- the backfire of the spell he had been testing had disguised him thoroughly.

Since the War, and their involvement in it, the Weasleys, as well as Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, of course, had been front page news almost constantly. It made dating a public spectacle- as evidenced by the fact that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley hadn't yet had a date without the public knowing intimate details the next day. Cate didn't need to put herself, or her family, in the spotlight.

By Friday night, she was exhausted. The shop had been working full out until late that afternoon. When she reminded Madame Pine that she had a family event that weekend, the woman seemed both pleased and annoyed.

"Fine. See you Monday. Mind you wear clean robes. I noticed a stain on the back of the one you wore yesterday, and I want all my workers to be neat and professional." Her voice, thready and tense, rose a bit on the word stain; Madame Pine had been nearly hysterical since her usual Thursday deliveries hadn't yet arrived.

Cate hid her frustration until she made it out of the door. Sara, who was a year younger than she was, often wore rumpled robes, and Electra, a woman in her thirties, was never on time. She pulled her cloak closed around her. The wind was blowing straight at her, and since Apparition was illegal on the Alley, she'd have to walk all the way to the Leaky Cauldron to get home.

Cate kept her head down as she passed the Wheezes shop, but she was one of the few that did. Nearly every other person on the Alley was staring at the brilliant signs and posters that decorated the little shop. From what she had heard from her littlest brother, the new one in Hogsmeade was no different.

She made it to the Leaky Cauldron without running into anyone, and Flooed back home. The full moon was tonight, and she had only an hour to get her things and make it to her family home before she changed. She grabbed the bag she had packed that morning, took a deep breath, and apparated to the end of the drive.

* * *

The walk up to Moon Manor, her family estate, took nearly ten minutes. There was an Anti-Apparition ward around the property, which was extensive, and her mother disliked anyone using the Floo.

Moon Manor was an elegant gray stone building on top of a gentle slope, with a long circular drive and a high stone fence around the entire property, with a heavy wrought-iron gate that was usually left open. Trees, tall and ancient, lined the drive, and there was a huge lawn in front of the house. Cate couldn't see them from the front, but in the back were the gardens, orchards, and forest that her family had maintained for generations, as well as a large lake, surrounded by trees.

Cate knocked on the magnificent door that was three times as tall as she was, and at least five hundred years old. It was opened immediately, with no sound of creaking or distress, by a little house-elf with enormous brown eyes and a cheerful smile. Like every elf employed by her family- and since the new laws, written by one Hermione Granger, had been enacted, they were employed- this little elf wore a neat dress in the Moon colors of navy blue and gray.

"Good evening, Mistress Catherine." The elf grabbed her bag out her hand and set it on the expansive marble floor. "Is the little mistress wishing to see her mother?"

Cate grinned at the elf. "Yes, thank you, Mora. Where is she?"

Mora shut the door; the knob was just slightly above her head. "Madame Moon is in the conservatory, miss, with Mistress Isabelle and Mister Winters."

Cate sighed. "Thanks, Mora. Could you put my bag in my room for me?"

Without waiting for an answer, Cate walked through the grand entrance hall, down three corridors, and then through a small library. The conservatory was an entirely glass room by the lake, where her mother grew her favorite flowers and magical plants.

Her mother, Serenity, a tall, elegant woman with long blond hair and a cold smile, was watering her daylilies, while her sister, Isabelle, lounged on a loveseat with her fiancé, Matthias Winters. Isabelle looked like their mother, with golden blond hair that brushed her shoulders and the same smile, but she lacked that grace that made their mother a true beauty. Matt had short, curly brown hair and sharp blue eyes. Sitting next to Isabelle, they looked the perfect couple.

Serenity looked up from her lilies at Cate's entrance. "Hello, Catherine. Did you have a nice walk up the lane?"

Cate hid her grimace. From the look on her mother's face, her hair must be a mess. If Isabelle had walked up the drive, her hair would have been as perfect at the end as it was in the beginning. "Yes, Mother. I did, thank you. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here."

Serenity turned back to her flowers. "Of course. Mora would have told me. Your father is waiting for you down by the forest. And your cousins are coming tomorrow night for dinner. Twice in one week." She snipped a bud with her wand tip. "How wonderful."

Cate forced a smile. "Great. I'll just pop down by Dad, then."

Serenity waved vaguely at her daughter. Isabelle hadn't moved, or said a word, and Matt had followed her example, as he usually did.

Cate ran down to the forest's edge as soon as she was out of sight of the conservatory. Her father, Hierophant, a tall, broad man with wavy black hair and Cate's eyes, stood watching the fish in the lake on the side furthest from the house. He waved his wand, and the water rippled slightly. A low glow seemed to come from the water, and then a ball shot upward. He grinned at Cate.

"Hey, love. Charles dropped his Quaffle in the lake before he left, and just now feels the need to tell me to fish it out."

She hugged her father. "I can see that. Is everything ready?"

He nodded and dried the ball with another wave. "Yeah. Just pop behind the fence and you'll be good. Oh, and your mother insisted that you be dressed when you walk back up to the house. So I left a box for you to put your stuff in."

She sighed. "Fine. Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Any others coming?"

Her father frowned thoughtfully. "Not that I know of. Radisson is out of the country, Nomes is trying out his basement, and Zacharias is at the other one tonight."

Cate felt a smirk starting. "Just me, then. Excellent. See you in the morning, Dad."

He kissed her forehead. "See you at breakfast."

Cate walked towards the heavy iron gate set innocuously in a tall fence. Her father hadn't moved. "You'd better get in. Moon's rising."

He saluted her with a grin, dripping Quaffle in hand. "Night, princess."

She slammed the gate behind her. "Night, Daddy."

* * *

The next morning, after a long and tiring, but exhilarating, night, Cate strode up to the house in the same clothes as the night before. Bypassing the breakfast room, where she could hear her family eating, she went straight to her own room for a shower and a change of clothes. Even though every part of her body ached, she knew her mother would hear no excuse for missing breakfast.

After her shower and change, she headed down to breakfast, her hair still wet. Her father winked at her as she walked in, and gave her an exuberant hello. Isabelle didn't acknowledge her as she sat down, but Matthias gave her a sleepy good morning. He wasn't fully awake yet, and never was in the mornings. Her older brother, Nathan, waved absently at her as he devoured a small mountain of pancakes. Her two youngest brothers, Charles and Hercules, were both still in Hogwarts. It should have been a peaceful breakfast, with light conversation and eating. No serious concerns were ever addressed at breakfast.

Her mother, however, possessed a talent for hidden venom that made Cate want to disappear. "How was your evening, Catherine?" The words, perfectly polite on the surface, carried several levels of hidden meaning.

Cate smiled tightly. "It was fine, Mother. The new fence is quite sturdy."

Her father grinned. "Thanks, Catie."

Serenity ignored him. "I was a bit concerned. It was a bit chilly, last night."

"Mum, I do have fur," she snapped, her patience lost for the game.

Matthias flinched, but the rest of the family ignored the comment. Serenity looked at her daughter, her normally cold face seemingly surprised that her daughter had responded so venomously. "Why, you do, don't you?"

Cate grabbed her fork and picked at her sausages, hoping no one would notice that she wasn't eating. Her father gave her a tight smile and began a conversation with Matthias, who merely blushed and ignored Cate, as usual. Serenity ate her fruit and cheese quietly, and Nathan teased Isabelle mercilessly and quietly, with the occasional rebuke thrown in by their father.

When the meal was done, they all went their separate ways, as was normal. She saw Isabelle sneaking off with Matthias, giggling in abandon like a schoolgirl; they were kissing each other as they walked towards one of the smaller, darker libraries. Nathan grabbed a few biscuits from the table and raced outside, brushing past their mother, who was wandering towards her conservatory. Her father wrapped an arm around Cate's shoulders and led her towards the stairs.

"Hey, love, I'm sorry about that."

Cate looked up at her father, her eyes worried. "She's getting worse."

Hierophant frowned slightly. "No, you just haven't been around much. Not that I'm blaming you; there's nothing you could have done, and she simply will not allow me to help her." Cate stumbled slightly, and her father smiled. "Now, Catie Bear, it's time for sleep. Your cousins are coming around six; I'll have Mora or one of the others wake you about four, if you aren't already up by then."

Cate kissed her father's cheek. "Thanks, Daddy."

* * *

When Cate woke later that day, it was to find a house-elf, not Mora, leaning over her bed and poking her gently.

"Miss? Miss? Is you waking yet, Miss?"

Cate yawned. "What time is it?"

The elf smiled her wide, ugly grin. "It is four, Miss, when you is wanting to be woked."

Cate sat up and stretched. "Thanks." She took another look at the elf. "Are you new?"

The little creature practically bounced with excitement. "Oh yes, Miss! Started two weeks ago, didn't I?"

Cate hid a laugh at the creature's boundless enthusiasm. "And your name, please?"

The elf grinned hugely. "Miss, I am Reesa, and Madame Moon is asking me to be your personal elf."

Cate frowned thoughtfully. "So you're a spy."

Reesa backed away a few steps and let Cate swing out of the bed. "Oh no, Miss. Madame is asking me to help you every day, Miss, while you is working."

Cate sighed, but didn't want to go against her mother. At least, not now, and not so obviously. It wasn't Reesa's fault, after all. "Fine. But please, make sure you tell me what time you're coming. I don't want to be surprised."

Reesa bounced a few steps towards the door. "Of course, Miss, but it is likely to be while you is working, Miss. Dinner is at six thirty, Miss, and Master says that the guests should be arriving soon. Mistress Isabelle says that it is a formal dinner, Miss, and you is to dress up."

Cate walked slowly into her bathroom, feeling every ache of the change. "Thank you, Reesa. Tell my father I'll be down soon."

She showered for the second time that day, reveling in the feeling of the hot water running over her aching muscles. With a flick of her wand and a spell she'd learned from one of her very clever Ravenclaw roommates, her hair was brushed and dried, in heavy curls that hung past her shoulders. Makeup, which her mother would insist upon, was applied quickly, in less than fifteen minutes. And then came the wardrobe.

All of her favorite, comfortable clothes were at her apartment, but her mother had insisted that she keep a wardrobe of the latest fashions at the Manor, for their little family gatherings. Cate hated the fancy robes, with the long trailing sleeves and trains, but she would do anything to keep herself in her mother's good graces. And thus the wardrobe was born.

Her sister shopped for her, almost constantly, and that certainly didn't help matters. Isabelle looked fantastic in anything, and usually cared what she wore. Her own wardrobe was bigger than Cate's bathroom, and that didn't include the shoes and accessories that went along with it. No, Cate had to be the plain one, who everyone ordered to dress up but no one really cared if she looked good. Or comfortable.

She flung the doors open on the wardrobe and began to sort through the jewel colors. If only her sister would get it into her head that Cate preferred darker tones, than maybe it would be fine, but there were some truly hideous yellows and pinks, and even one that looked as if it were made out of gold. There were very few items that Cate would have picked for herself, and none that looked as though they were made for her.

She finally settled on a pretty navy blue set that had very subtle shading on the hems and sleeves. It was the plainest thing she could find, and it would have to do. She wouldn't parade around in that ghastly magenta set that looked as though someone had vomited daisies all over it. Maybe she could give it to Isabelle… But then, Isabelle would look fantastic, and would ask why Cate hadn't ever worn it.

After settling on the robes, she picked out matching jewels from the box that her mother kept stocked from the family vault, and a pair of low black shoes. She wouldn't be caught dead in the heels that Isabelle was sure to expect with the robes.

Bracing herself, she opened the door. Ten minutes until the guests arrived, and it wouldn't do to be late.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	3. Chapter 3

**Fury**

**Chapter Three**

**Family Obligations**

Cate stood in the corner of the ballroom, trying desperately to blend into the wood paneling that lined the great room and hiding behind a large potted plant. She had been told by at least three cousins that her mother, aunts, and grandmother were looking for her, and she had a fairly good idea why.

She was the only cousin, in her rather large extended family, that had not brought a date, and was old enough to do so. Her mother, cold as she was to Cate, would forgive Charles, her younger brother, for not having a guest; he was sixteen, still in school, and any date he might bring would be spending her time away from school with her family. Cate, at twenty-two, would not be forgiven for such a faux pas. In fact, her many aunts were probably dying to set her up with someone suitable, and knew just such a person who happened to be without a partner this very evening who would have been perfect.

Her father was the oldest of seven children, six boys and a girl, five of whom were still living. Her mother was the middle of four children, two boys and two girls, three of whom were still living. That made for a grand total of six aunts, plus her mother, all of which wanted to see every one of their children, nieces, and nephews safely paired off and married. Her older sister, Isabelle, the eldest, was the first of twenty-two cousins to become engaged, but, if her aunts had anything to say about it, certainly wouldn't be the last.

From the moment she had walked through the door, she had been accosted by several cousins, introducing her to their dates and/or significant others. She had smiled graciously each time, either shaking hands with the men (if her cousin was female) or kissing the girl on the cheek (if the cousin was male). Four times, she had had to congratulate a couple; in addition to her sister, four other cousins were getting married in the next year. Once, in the case of her cousin Caritas and her fiancé, Gavin, she met the partner's child. Thankfully, for Carrie's sake, the child wasn't hers, but Gavin's from a previous marriage. Lydia was a beautiful child of three, and the youngest person in the room. She was quickly taken by a helpful house elf to the nursery.

To escape the procession of happiness, Cate had sidled over to the desert table, where her father's sister Temperance found her. Aunt Temmie had two daughters, both nineteen, and both of whom had brought dates. Cate had to listen to the particulars of both relationships in excruciating detail, and when that was done, her Aunt Veronica had joined them, pulling in her eldest daughter, fiancé in tow. After that, Cate was regaled to wedding minutiae, which, quite frankly, she got in sufficient quantity from her sister, and was dying to say so, but that would have been rude.

All in all, the Moon Halloween Ball, normally a favorite of Cate's, had slowly descended into a night of hell. And then the dancing started.

If she could have leapt through the window at that moment, and run for the woods, she would have. But she was certain at least one aunt would have followed her, dragging an eligible bachelor behind her.

* * *

The next morning was painful, to say the least. Moon Manor was fully large enough to house an army; the entire family could certainly fit, and if certain honeymoons were observed before the wedding, well, there had been a ball last night, and alcohol, and no one was going to pay much attention, as long as caution was observed, and discretion.

Cate found herself in the middle of a table that had been stretched practically into the hall. At the head, her father, mother, grandmother, aunts and uncles chatted quietly, some with obviously pounding heads and bloodshot eyes. For the most part, the adults ignored the children, all of whom were grateful for that fact. Near the adults, grouped in pairs, were the engaged couples. Cate found herself next to her cousin Sebastian and his fiancée, Aileen, a very nice, sweet girl that Cate could hardly stand. On the other side were the cousins whose dates had not been allowed to stay, because there wasn't yet a wedding to anticipate. Cate wished desperately that she could join in those conversations, but found herself dragged into wedding details yet again. Before the end of the meal, she had been invited as bridesmaid for all of the weddings, and to be maid-of-honor for Aileen, who had a small family and wanted a private wedding.

She escaped the table as soon as decently possible, but couldn't seem to find a room in the entire manor that didn't either have a couple in it, making wedding plans, or one of her aunts, telling her the name and life story of a nice boy that would just love to meet her.

Cate found herself wilting, and couldn't think of a way to escape. Her mother, as distant and unfocused as she normally was, seemed her old self again, and had been finding ways of pointing out Cate's faults, not the least of which was a lack of a boyfriend. As pleased as she was with the turn of events that had drawn her mother out of her misty shell, she wished, just for a second, that the woman had directed her pointed attentions at someone else.

After a lunch that made breakfast seem pleasant, her cousins- the ones not getting married, as opposed to the couples who seemed inseparable- begged their parents to be allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Cate found herself dragged along, with a list of requests from her mother and aunts, longer than the novel resting unread next to her bed. Her brother Nathan led the charge through the fireplace into the Three Broomsticks, followed by Demeter, Victoria, Elaine, Cornelia, Bertie, Elinor, and Charity, the twin of Caritas. Before Cate disappeared through the flames, Isabelle handed her a stack of papers.

"Can you get these for us? That's a love. Thanks."

Cate watched her sister glide out of the room, not a hair disturbed on her perfect head. Sighing, she stepped through the flames.

* * *

She found her cousins already dominating a table, with tankards of butterbeer and, in Bertie's case, a glass of Firewhiskey. She ordered a small glass of water, knowing, without any doubt, that her cousins planned to spend the rest of the day away from the Manor, and, also without doubt, that her mother and aunts would blame her if any harm came to them, ignoring the fact that Nathan was two years older than she was and supposedly the responsible one.

She glanced at the lists before sighing, finishing her water, and standing up.

Elinor grabbed her sleeve. "Where to, Catie?"

Flashing the pieces of paper at them, Cate smiled. "Shopping for the aunts."

There were sighs and moans of commiseration, but none of them offered to help. She waved merrily, fighting bitterness and ignoring the sick feeling in her gut as she watched them order another round. She had to make it quick, or they would drink the place dry without her.

She had to stop at nearly every store on the high street, placing the orders and having them sent through the Floo to the Manor. She wasn't going to carry, for example, half a side of beef, in her purse- though, due to magic, she likely could have. She picked up catalogues from all of the stores her sister had on her list; they all involved weddings in some way, and she had they sinking feeling that she was going to be subjected to wedding talk for the remainder of the family visit, if not until every last cousin was properly wed.

She finished as it was nearing sunset. She paused at the window outside Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Hogsmeade Branch, staring at the display in ghastly colors of puce, orange, and a yellow that was unnaturally bright. She wondered what Isabelle, or, for that matter, her mother, would say if she bought a sample of something that looked like a wedding cake that turned everyone into various bird forms. She was contemplating a molting Isabelle in a wedding gown when someone slammed into her from behind, knocking several packages to the ground and cursing her soundly.

She grabbed the window frame to keep from falling, feeling her feet slip out from underneath her. A strong hand gripped her elbow, pulling her upright and wrenching her shoulder. A gust blew her hair in her face, and she felt heavy hands roughly brush off the robes that her mother had insisted they all wear in public.

"You alright?"

She froze. She knew that voice. "Yeah," she squeaked. "I'm fine. Thanks." Another gust blew the rest of her hair into her face, including a clump that landed into her wide-open mouth.

The voice laughed as she pulled the hair out from between her lips. "Well! Look who it is! Izzie Moon's little sister. We've got to stop meeting like this!"

Cate looked into the laughing face of George Weasley and scowled. "I didn't plan it, if that's what you're implying. I'm shopping." The last words were said primly, as though she expected him to contradict her.

George grinned. "And that includes staring at my window, yeah? Like what you see?"

Cate could feel a blush. "No. I just…I had a stone in my shoe, and your display distracted me."

George nodded solemnly, a smirk ruining the entire effort. "It does that. Where are you off to?"

Cate checked her list. "Um, Three Broomsticks, actually. I've…"

He jumped in. "Great. Headed there myself. I'll walk with you."

Cate's blush deepened. "You don't have to…I'm just…uh…"

George held out his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. "Articulate. Shall we?"

Cate felt as though a person could have fried an egg on her face. "Sure."

They walked through Hogsmeade, his packages dancing along merrily behind them. Cate's hand barely rested on George's arm until he gripped it firmly and locked it in place with a grin. A struggle, she felt, would have been futile, and potentially embarrassing. Watching the faces of the people passing by, she could practically read their thoughts.

_Who is that girl with the famous George Weasley? Do you see what she's wearing? Who is she?_

Cate stared determinedly at her feet, watching the shoes of people passing. George didn't say a word until they got to the door.

"Here we are."

He held the door for her, motioning her forward. Blushing, she stepped into the smoky room and looked at the table where, a mere three hours before, her cousins and brother had been determined to drink the bar dry.

The table in the corner had more people at it now, including four of the five couples that had stayed back at the house. Nathan, her darling older, and obviously extremely drunk, brother, had a witch on each leg, and was alternating between kissing the neck of the one and the lips of the other. She didn't recognize either of them, but thought that one may have been in her year at Hogwarts, and the other perhaps a year older. Persephone and her fiancé, Edmond, had obviously joined them, and were making out in the corner; Ed had a bottle hanging limply from one hand, and the other was in a place that was rather indecent in a public. Persie seemed to be enjoying herself, if the moans were anything to go by.

The other three couples were doing almost exactly the same thing, in various states of undress; Benjamin and Reagan were actually under the table, while Sebastian and Aileen were closer to standing against the wall than sitting on the stools. Carrie and Gavin were in a booth, lying in a prone position, while Carrie's twin, Charity, was on the other side, with a boy that Cate didn't recognize. The rest of the cousins were dancing, mostly with other patrons, but it seemed that a group of younger wizards had been there, since the girls were mostly dancing with boys near the same age, and they certainly weren't the dates she had met at the ball yesterday.

Cate was greeted with a round of drunken cheers; the only other person that seemed even remotely sober was Cornelia, and she was currently downing another glass of something that looked like water. She turned to George to thank him, and saw him staring at her family with a dumbfounded expression.

Cate turned again, just in time to see Elinor slide down her partner's legs in what was clearly meant to be an erotic move, only to end up on the floor.

She blushed. "Sorry, George. Didn't expect them to be doing this."

George raised an eyebrow. "You know them?"

Cate's blush deepened. Clearly she had misread the expression. "Um, yes. That is my brother, Nathan," she said, pointing to him. "And the rest are my cousins. We were having a family thing this weekend and everyone needed to get out of the house."

George grinned. "Looks like fun. Can I join you?"

Cate blinked. "Sure."

He winked at her, dropping his gaze to Elinor, who was trying to get off the floor gracefully. "Let me send off those packages and I'll be right along."

Cate nodded, dumbstruck. "Sure. Take your time."

There was a crash and a chorus of giggles. George's grin widened, and his eyes twinkled. "Not likely."

* * *

Cate didn't know how much longer they were in the bar, but eventually one of her aunts noticed that they hadn't arrived home yet. Someone- she was sure it was her grandmother- had sent her Aunt Temmie. She was the one least likely to get upset at indecency, and most likely to tell the parents what had been going on. Temmie started shoving people through the Floo, careful not to grab anyone she didn't know. A protesting Elaine went first, lips still locked on the boy she had found and trying desperately to hide from her mother the fact that her bra was half off. Victoria soon followed, and then the exodus seemed to be processing quite nicely. Sebastian and Aileen went together, though they had managed to get his pants buckled before Aunt Temmie noticed, and soon, there were only a handful left, mostly passed out around the room.

Cate saw Madame Rosmerta behind the bar, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. The bar was a disaster, but they had drunk all the butterbeer, and at least half of the Firewhiskey. Cate had given up her no drinking rule, and begun to catch up to her family, rivaling George, who, it seemed, was no lightweight. Cate watched Temmie shove a groaning and stumbling Gavin into the fireplace; Carrie was passed out in the booth, her arms hanging limply on the floor.

Cate was sitting at the original table, next to George, who was at least as drunk as she was. She watched him finish his last glass and stand up shakily. She frowned, and slurred, "Where do you think you're going?"

He turned to her, his brown eyes bleary in the low light. "Home."

She shook her head, her hair falling out of the ponytail she had put it in some time ago. "No way you can Apparate home like that."

George pointed a finger at her, staring into her eyes as though trying very hard to see her face. "Can too."

Cate grabbed his hand and dragged him near the fireplace, where her aunt was bodily hurling her cousin Demi through the green flames. Only three others remained besides the two of them; it must have been near closing time.

"You can't, and I won't let you. Don't want to Splinch you, do you?"

He blinked at her. "You're pretty."

She giggled. "You're drunk."

He tapped her nose after a few misses. "You too."

She smiled at him sloppily, watching her aunt glare at a protesting Nathan as she sent the two girls to their own homes. "Yup. So you can't Apparate."

George frowned. "Cause you're pretty?"

She laughed, ending it in a hiccup and a burp that was certainly not lady-like. "No, cause you're drunk, silly. Am I pretty?" she asked seriously.

He nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes." And then he did something unexpected.

He kissed her.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	4. Chapter 4

**Fury**

**Chapter Four**

**Newsworthy**

George was kissing her. George Weasley, kissing her, Cate Moon, in the middle of a crowded bar at almost three in the morning. The kiss was wet and sloppy, and he tasted like a mixture of Firewhiskey, butterbeer, and something else, but it was perfect. She wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his embrace; he seemed to be trying to hold himself up as he kissed her, but she barely noticed.

Cate saw a flash of light through her eyelids, then her aunt was pulling them apart. She let the words of her aunt's tirade wash over her, staring at George, who looked both sleepy and pleased. Her aunt hurled a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and shoved Cate in. The bar disappeared around her, revealing a dark tunnel of grates that flashed by too quickly to make out any details. She stumbled as she hit the fireplace in the entrance of the Manor, falling gracelessly at the feet of her grandmother, her mother, and three of her aunts.

She felt a strong hand under her arm, lifting her away from the marble fireplace as another figure swirled into existence. This one was, surprisingly, George, who fell face-first onto the stone floor as her Aunt Temmie appeared in the flames behind him.

Cate could hear her aunt's words to the rest of the family as she was helped out of the room and up the stairs by who she thought was probably her father- her eyes didn't seem to want to focus properly, and it was slow going.

"Caught that one snogging him just after I sent the rest home. Thought she was supposed to be the good one, Serenity, not drinking and all that. Drunk as a skunk, she is, and this one no better."

Her grandmother's voice overrode anything her mother might have said. "That's enough, Temperance. I recall a few occasions where your brothers had to bring you home, and it wasn't for lack of effort that you weren't caught snogging a boy in a public place by any one of them. Put the young gentleman in one of the guestrooms. I'll call his mother and let her know that he's here."

Temmie's derisive voice came as Cate walked slowly up the stairs, supported heavily by the person helping her who was probably her father, and walked down the hall to her room. "So you recognize him, Mum? So did half the people in that bar, and by tomorrow everyone will know…"

Her aunt's voice disappeared as the door to her bedroom shut behind her. Cate stumbled to her bed in the dark, not bothering to get undressed, and collapsed on top of the blankets, asleep before her head hit the bed.

Her last thought was of George, and the kiss, and what her mother would say to her when she woke in the morning.

* * *

Cate woke to a gentle tapping on her door. Groaning, she rolled over and yelled something unintelligible, but the tapping persisted. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at the door. Sadly, it was the pillow her head was on, but she didn't notice until her head bounced off the mattress. Her headache, which had hovered on the edge of consciousness, slammed into her full force. And the tapping went on.

Cate growled something that sounded like "Come in," which trailed off into mutters of what she would like to do to the person knocking. Through slitted eyes, she saw the door open and close, and the tips of ears making their way to her bed. Sliding closer to the edge, she looked into the wide brown eyes of a house-elf. He looked nervous, and was twisting the edges of the little tunic he wore. His ears began to droop slightly.

"Miss Moon, Miss? Your mother is wanting to see you, Miss. Please, Miss?"

Cate stared at him through bloodshot eyes. "What time is it?"

The little elf winced in sympathy. "Half-past nine, Miss."

Cate growled, then groaned when that caused her head to pound. "Tell my mother I'll be there in a minute."

The elf winced again and twisted the tunic harder. "She said now, Miss, and I is to wait with you, miss."

Cate rolled off the bed less than gracefully. "Fine. Where are my clean clothes?"

The elf backed away a few steps. "I is not knowing, Miss. I is a kitchen helper."

Cate sighed. "I'll check the wardrobe. Could you at least stand outside the door?"

Shaking a little, the elf backed away another step. "No, Miss. I is to wait here, in the room, no exceptions, Mistress said. Sorry, Miss."

Holding up a semi-clean robe that only had a few wrinkles, because she downright refused to wear any of the violently colorful dress robes, Cate nodded. "Yes, Right, Fine. Just…just cover your eyes, alright? And what's your name again?"

She didn't know if elves could blush, but she could see something like one under his hands where they covered his eyes. "I is Remi, Miss."

Cate smiled tightly, hoping he wouldn't notice the fact that her eyes were probably bloodshot and she had a screaming headache while trying to retain the politeness that he wouldn't often require as a kitchen servant. "Thank you, Remi. I'm sure my family is extremely pleased by your service."

Now she was sure elves could blush, because Remi's little face was bright red, and the tips of his ears were quivering. From behind his hands, she could hear his voice, almost faint with happiness. "Thank you, Miss."

While throwing the robe on, she asked, seemingly off-hand. "Do you know why my mother wants me?"

Remi, his voice muffled by his hands, mumbled, "I is not knowing, Miss. I is only told to get you."

Sighing, Cate pulled her messy hair into a tail at the back of her head. If her mother demanded an immediate entrance, than she was going to get what she would get.

Stomping towards the door (she wasn't being petulant, she told herself; her feet were numb), she followed Remi down the stairs to the small formal sitting room. She felt a sense of foreboding wash over her; even at her most irritated, her mother never used the formal rooms with family. She took a deep breath as Remi knocked, and followed the little elf in as her mother's crystalline tones echoed into the hallway.

Remi gave her an encouraging sort of smile as he scuttled past her, presumably to go back to the kitchens. Cate stood just inside the doorway, examining the floor and trying (and failing) to understand why she had been summoned, without even the decency of a hangover potion.

"Catherine."

Jumping, she looked guiltily at her grandmother, whom she hadn't even noticed. She gave her a tight smile. "Grandmother."

Her grandmother sat enthroned in a high-backed chair in the center of the room. At her right hand sat Cate's father, looking uncomfortable and tense, and at her left sat her mother, looking as serene as her name, with a newspaper neatly folded in her lap. Cate had always had a close relationship with her grandmother, but the look on the old woman's face left little doubt that this was a personal interview, as had happened in the past, with pleasant repercussions.

Her grandmother's voice was the only sound in the room. "Catherine, do you know why we have called you here today?"

Cate's mother snorted inelegantly. "Of course she does, Elspeth. How could she not?"

Cate's father looked at his fingers. "There was quite a bit of alcohol consumed last night, Serenity. You saw the bill this morning."

Cate winced. She and her cousins hadn't thought before charging everything to the family's tab, and obviously that was coming back to haunt them today. But why was she the only one here?

Elspeth stared hard at her granddaughter's face. There was confusion, a slight wince at sounds, and she was studiously avoiding looking near the open windows. "Catherine, why did you not tell us you were in pain?" She snapped her fingers, ignoring Cate's wince, and a house-elf popped into existence next to her. "Fetch a hangover potion for my granddaughter, please. And put one in each of the rooms of the children, as well." Looking at her son with a small smile, she laughed. "Might as well stave off the pain now so they can feel the rebukes later."

Cate frowned. "Am I being punished for something?"

Serenity leaned forward, her hand resting on the newspaper in her lap. "Yes, Catherine, you are. You embarrassed not only yourself, but your family."

Cate jumped in. "But it wasn't just me! I wasn't even there when it began! George offered to walk me to the Three Broomsticks, and the party had already started! There was nothing I could do to stop it, even it I had wanted to," she added rebelliously.

Serenity sat back, glancing at Elspeth. Her grandmother held a hand out to Cate and motioned for her to come forward. "My dear child, I do not fault you for the festivities. Goodness knows that only a handful of people could have stopped them, and we certainly should have known that something like that would happen. It usually does, with those family members. No, my dear, we do not blame you for the drinking, or the carousing."

Serenity raised an eyebrow, clearly thinking otherwise, but both Elspeth and Cate ignored her. Cate glanced quickly to the right. Her father had a bored yet anxious look on his face. He obviously didn't blame her either, but there was something else going on here.

Cate looked into her grandmother's eyes, so like her own. "What happened, then, Grandmother, that you felt the need to see me so bloody early?"

Her grandmother ignored the language, though her mother leaned forward, her lips thinning. "This, my child." She held out a hand to Serenity, who sullenly gave Elspeth the newspaper. Elspeth unfolded it, then handed the front page to Cate.

Cate stared down at the picture of herself, deeply kissing a drunken George. Blushing, she watched as the kiss continued, with a shouting Rosmerta in the background and a stunned Aunt Temmie in the corner. She hadn't realized that his hands were _there_. The caption read: "George Weasley, war hero and business owner, snogs Catherine Moon in Three Broomsticks last night after a long night of debauchery."

"I…I don't understand."

Serenity shook her head. "There was a reporter there. There always is, with the Weasley family. You should know that. We are not unpopular ourselves, Catherine."

Cate threw the paper on the ground. "How was I to know that he'd kiss me?" she demanded, hurt.

Elspeth frowned thoughtfully. "You have not been dating him, then?"

Cate groaned. "No. I just ran into him in Hogsmeade and he came with to the Three Broomsticks. That's all. He knows Isabelle, and Nathan, though neither well."

Cate's father leaned forward. "Then why…"

Elspeth stalled him with a hand. "Hiero, let me. The article states that the two of you were seen in Diagon Alley last week, at the Leaky Cauldron, eating lunch. And that you were seen arm in arm in Hogsmeade prior to the kiss."

Cate's heart sank. "Oh, Merlin. I can explain," she began, but was interrupted by her mother.

Serenity laughed harshly. "So it's true, then. See how she lies to us, Hierophant!"

Elspeth snapped, "That's enough, Serenity!"

Serenity glared at Cate for a second before turning to her grandmother. "How should we deal with this, Elspeth? It will be all over the Wizarding World, today. And the shame…"

Elspeth glared at her daughter-in-law before turning to Hiero. "I see no shame in my granddaughter, a beautiful young girl from a good family, dating a famous war hero. Do you, Hierophant?"

Her father gave her a quick smile that didn't look at all pleased. "No, Mother. Of course not."

Elspeth clapped her hands together, making Cate wince. "Excellent. To breakfast, then."

Serenity stalked out first, glaring at her daughter and ignoring her husband. Hiero patted her gently on the shoulder, avoiding her eyes, before following his wife. Elspeth, still seated, ignored the two. "Catherine, come here."

Cate was almost out the door, but turned resignedly and sat in the chair her father had vacated. "Yes, Grandmother?"

Elspeth sighed thoughtfully and pulled Cate's hands into her own. "Darling, you must be careful."

Cate snorted. "You think I don't know that, Grandmother?"

Elspeth gave her a little look. "I do not mean about the news, my dear, although you should have been more watchful. I do not blame you for the media's propensity to photograph anything they believe newsworthy. I do, however, ask you to be careful with this boy in particular. It is dangerous for you to be involved with someone so much in the public eye."

Cate sighed. "I do know, Grandmother. But it wasn't planned, and I certainly wasn't expecting to be kissed by a drunken boy in the middle of the Three Broomsticks."

Elspeth kissed her hand. "I know, darling. Please, be careful in the future."

Cate stood, dropping her grandmother's hands. "I am always careful."

She walked out of the door, not looking back, knowing that something had changed, but entirely unsure of what that might have been.

* * *

After a hot shower, a chug of potion, and a change of clothes, breakfast seemed in order. She passed numerous cousins stumbling along, their own potions in hand and mothers and aunts pushing them down the stairs to the dining room.

Unlike most other times, the aunts had decided to put the children in one room and take the smaller breakfast hall for themselves. Cate was relieved; she hadn't wanted to put up with her mother's glares and her aunts' gossiping. On the other hand, she did still have to deal with a self-righteous Isabelle and a large group of half-drunk and sobering cousins.

She hadn't realized until she sat down that three of her cousins were hovering over the newspaper, staring at her with awed and bleary eyes. Demi, Cornelia, and Elinor were all giggling over what she saw to be the front page. The three girls changed seats, taking the chairs around her.

"Is this true?" a giggling Elinor asked, her eyes wide.

Cate blinked at her cousin. "What?"

Elin shoved the paper under her nose, getting egg on the corner. "This. You and George Weasley. The paper says that you've been dating for almost a week now. Apparently, that's the longest he's gone out with any girl in a long while."

Cate groaned. "Oh, Merlin. Seriously?"

Demi laughed, drawing the eyes of several of the others. "It is true! I knew it, when he showed up with you!"

Cate opened her mouth to speak, but the appearance of a stumbling and disheveled redhead at the door caused the room to fall silent. George stared at them before flopping into the nearest empty chair and shoveling food onto his plate. Occasionally he would look around the table, blinking stupidly at Isabelle and Matthias and frowning at Nathan.

When he noticed everyone looking at him, he set the half-full fork on his plate and grunted a sullen, "What?"

Cornelia giggled and passed the paper down the several chairs to him. Each cousin had a different reaction, but Cate was frozen. What would he say?

When the paper was finally in George's hands, he stared at it for a second before jumping up. His chair fell out from under him, as if in slow motion, and his bellowed "Bloody hell!" echoed in the room. Cate's head fell into her hands, and she moaned.

She would never hear the end of this.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	5. Chapter 5

**Fury**

**Chapter Five**

**Aftermath**

George's exclamation came as everyone in the room fell miraculously silent; the echo was almost louder than the shout had been. Cate blushed and let her head fall into her hands, and many of the girl cousins surrounding her burst into giggles. George seemed surprised that he had said anything, but his mouth tightened as he looked around the room. Grabbing Cate's hand, he pulled her out of her chair and into the hallway, closing the door behind them.

He thrust the paper into her face. "What happened last night?" The question was almost a hiss.

Cate blinked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean? I would have thought, from the picture at least, that it was quite obvious."

George's ears turned red. "No, that's…I mean…after the kiss…" He stammered some other meaningless phrases before glancing down at the picture again. "Why am I here? Did we…"

Cate felt a creeping sensation in her stomach, one that felt like nerves but was, quite possibly, the hangover. A potion could only cure so much, after all, and it was useless for memory loss. "We all got very, very drunk last night, and then my aunt showed up and started shoving people into the fireplace. Everyone that was there last night is here this morning. I think my grandmother called your mother to tell her where you were. You slept in one of the guestrooms, and I was in my room. I'd almost forgotten you were here."

George groaned, but seemed slightly relieved. "Mum won't be pleased with me."

Cate frowned. "And you think my family was? I had a lecture this morning that started far too early about how to behave in public."

George stared at her with bleary eyes. "I don't have to listen to this shite from you."

He turned to leave, but Cate grabbed his arm. "No, we're going to deal with this right now." She took a deep breath. "You kissed me. Why did you do that?"

Now the back of his neck was red, too. "I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

The slap resonated throughout the hallway, and there was a shocked gasp from behind the closed door.

George held his stinging cheek, indignation written broadly across his face. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

Cate's eyes flashed. "You are a pompous, arrogant ass, and I never, ever want to speak to you again!"

George grinned, as if rising to a challenge, his hand still pressed to his cheek. "I may be an ass, but you do want to speak to me. In fact, I'd guess that you probably want to kiss me again."

Cate's eyes narrowed, and she growled, "I most certainly do not!"

George grabbed her hand as she swung for another slap and pulled her close. "I'm betting you do."

He kissed her again, and, though she fought it for a moment, she found herself sinking into it as she had last night. He really was a fantastic kisser, and even better when he was sober. At least, mostly sober.

"Catherine Elizabeth Moon!"

Cate jumped guiltily away from George. "Mother! I…we were…uh…we were discussing the newspaper article, Mother…" She trailed off, seeing the look on her face. Her Aunt Helena peeked out from behind her mother's robes, a smile on her face. Aunt Helena was rarely without a smile, something her daughter Cornelia had inherited.

"Oh, come now, Serenity, it's hardly the end of the world. The number of times I've caught Benjamin and Reagan kissing…though you should learn some discretion, dear, and not snog in hallways where just anyone might pass."

Serenity frowned imperiously. "I do believe it's time to go, don't you, Catherine dear? You do have to work this afternoon, don't you? And your mother must be worried about you, Mister Weasley. If I were your mother, I would be."

Cate set her jaw. "We'll get our things, Mother, and he can Floo to my apartment. It doesn't have the wards that the Manor does, and he can Apparate straight to his mother from there. And no, I don't have to work today. I took the weekend off. I thought I could spend time with my family." She practically spat the last sentence, bitterness in every word.

She spun on her heel and marched down the hall to the staircase, dragging George bodily behind her.

He didn't say a word when she pulled him into her room, throwing articles of clothing into a small bag. Storming into the bathroom, she shoved toiletries haphazardly into the clothing, not bothering to even dry the toothbrush. He was silent as she dragged him down a few hallways to the room where he had, presumably, spent the night; she quickly conjured a small bag and shoved his very few personal belongings into it.

He didn't speak until they were near the fireplace on the third floor. "I could just Floo to my apartment…" he said quietly.

Cate didn't hesitate as she threw a handful of glittering powder into the fire, turning the flames green. "I wouldn't give my mother the satisfaction."

Pulling him into the flames with her, she called out, "My apartment!"

* * *

Cate and George stumbled out of the fireplace gracelessly, falling onto her hearthrug in a pile of limbs and baggage straps. She was lying sideways across his knees, and his right hand was wrapped (somehow) in both her hair and the straps of the bag with her things in it.

He spoke first. "Well. That was…an experience."

She pushed herself away, wincing as he pulled her hair. "Yes, it was," she snapped, trying to disentangle herself. "Well, this is my…apartment…"

He looked up, concerned, as her voice trailed away. Looking around for the first time, he felt his mouth drop open in shock. "What in the name of Merlin's beard happened here?"

The apartment had been ransacked. It was a small place, no more than a living area and a bedroom, but there wasn't a single thing left standing. Furniture had been shredded, and the stuffing thrown around. End tables had been smashed, as had every piece of ceramic and glass in both the kitchen and living room. Books had been ripped to shreds; clothing slashed and thrown everywhere. The door to the bedroom had been ripped off its hinges, and he could see that it was in no better shape than the living room.

Cate choked back a sob. "What…" She turned around, and screamed.

George jumped to his feet as he stared above the fireplace. The only thing left intact in the entire apartment was a mirror, the one above the fireplace. Written in dripping red letters were the words "Bad Dog!" Dangling from a string attached to the ceiling was the small, limp form of a gray and brown tabby cat.

* * *

George only found himself frozen for a few seconds before he grabbed Cate and Apparated to his own apartment above the Diagon Alley shop. It was still early, and a Sunday, so there were few customers, and the shop was still quiet.

Cate was a mess. The ransacking of her apartment and the death of what must have been her cat had hit her very hard, and she still hadn't fully recovered from the night before. He sat her in one of the comfortable armchairs that he and Fred had chosen for their very first pieces of furniture. It had taken a year for him to even be able to sit in one, but now they were just like other memories of his twin: painful at first, and then happy. The chairs were brick red with garish lime green stripes, and each had come with a footstool in a different color; George's chair had one that was electric blue, and Fred's had been canary yellow.

Cate didn't even seem to notice the clash of color that was evident everywhere in the apartment. The coffee table was steel and glass, a gift from Hermione and Ron, and the dining room table heavy black wood painted with brightly colored dragons, a gift from Charlie. The blankets piled on the brown leather sofa were a mix of his Mum's knitting projects in bright stripes and pieces that had to have been picked out of the trash before they were sold.

George walked into the tiny kitchenette (that he rarely used because Fred had been the better cook) and filled a glass with water. He walked back into the living room and handed it to Cate. She took it, her hands shaking, and stared straight ahead with blank eyes.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Cate? I'm going to call the Aurors and tell them what happened, alright?"

She nodded, the glass in her hand shaking hard enough to spill drops of water all over her lap.

He walked to the small fireplace (Fred had charmed half the bricks to be gold, and the others to change colors randomly, and he hadn't had the heart to remove the charms), conjured a fire, and threw in a handful of Floo powder from the orange and pink flowerpot on the mantel. "Auror Potter's office!"

He stuck his face in the flames, feeling the warmth and ash from the fire tickle his neck. He waited patiently for Harry to turn around; he was hunched over his tiny desk, quill in hand, scribbling on a sheet of paper. Ron, who shared the office, was nowhere to be seen; unsurprising, since it was nearly ten-thirty on a Sunday morning.

George waited an additional minute for Harry to finish, but he showed no sign of stopping. "Harry?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat as he spun around, wand drawn and glasses tilted at an odd angle. "George? What are you…what's going on? You know it's Sunday, right? And morning?"

George smirked. "Which is why you're here, of course."

Harry blushed. "Ginny had practice…I needed to finish paperwork…"

George nodded. "Right, well, I need your help. Ron's too, if you can find him. I've got a bit of an issue, and I don't know exactly what to do."

Harry's face turned serious. "What's up?"

George made a face, glancing at the open door. "Rather not talk about it through the Floo, if you don't mind."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, alright. I'll get Ron and we'll come to your place. Be there in fifteen minutes."

George smiled tightly. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry grinned. "I still owe you for what you did at my wedding."

George choked back a laugh and pulled his head out of the fire. Cate hadn't moved. He walked over to her and knelt in front of her. "The Aurors will be here soon, alright?" he said, his voice low and soothing.

She didn't move. Sighing, George settled himself on the other armchair to wait for Harry and Ron.

* * *

Harry and Ron arrived at his door fourteen minutes, fifty-three seconds later. George knew that because he had had nothing better to do than stare at the clock and wait for Cate to come out of her stupor. He leapt out of his chair and raced for the entry, surprising his brother in the process of knocking. Ron had his hand raised comically, and his maroon Auror's robes were disheveled, as if he had picked them up off of the floor. In comparison, Harry looked tidy, with only a spot of ink staining his hand to show he had been doing something else.

Ron scowled. "What is it, George? Have too much to drink again? Need us to get rid of some barmy chick?"

Harry smacked Ron on the arm. "If you don't want me to tell Hermione you said that, you'd better apologize."

Ron stared at Harry for a second before sighing and looking at his brother, who was red and slightly angry. "Sorry, George." Ron then smirked knowingly. "Mum's looking for you, by the way. Something about last night?"

George smiled at him, baring his teeth. "Not that it's your business, little Ronniekins, but I'll Floo her later."

Ron flushed angrily and opened his mouth, but Harry beat him to it. "What's wrong, George?"

George held the door open for them to come in. He heard Ron's snort of disgust when he saw the back of Cate's head, but, thankfully, Cate was still too stunned to notice anything.

Harry barely glanced at her before turning to George with a questioning frown. "Who…"

George motioned for them to sit, taking the chair closest to Cate; Harry and Ron took the leather sofa, but didn't get comfortable. At least, Harry didn't. Ron leaned back and heaved a sigh, as though he had been on his feet all day.

With a quick glance at Cate, George told both Aurors what had happened at her apartment, leaving out how and why they had gone there. Ron's knowing smirk disappeared within the first few words, to be replaced by a professionally curious, then angry, expression.

"And then she screamed. I turned around and saw the words 'Bad Dog' written in what looked like blood, and a cat hanging from the ceiling. The cat was dead. I think it was Cate's."

Cate spoke for the first time. "Her name was Mimi. She was a gift from my brother."

Harry turned to her, and she jumped. His gaze wasn't accusing, but blank, with a bland sort of concern that she was sure was trained into them. "Can you think of anyone who would do something like that? Any reasons?" Cate shook her head, and Harry sighed. "Alright. Ron and I will take a couple of other Aurors over there and search for clues." He and Ron stood.

George stood with them and walked them to the door. "What should I do with her?" he asked the pair quietly.

Ron frowned. "Keep her here for now, if you can. The search shouldn't take too long; no more than a couple hours."

Harry looked over George's shoulder at the huddled girl. "I'll get a cleanup crew in there, make sure everything is straightened out."

George smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

He shut the door behind the two and went back to Cate. She was huddled around herself, knees pulled to her chest and arms wrapped around them. She looked up at him with tear-filled blue eyes. "I'm really sorry, George. I don't mean to intrude."

He stood awkwardly in front of her. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Harry said to stay here until they're done, after all. Shouldn't be too long. What would you like to do?" He swallowed. "Do you need to…talk?"

Cate started shaking, sobs racking her body. "It's just…Mimi was all I had left of my brother." Her voice trailed off, and she put her forehead on her knees. George sat on the arm of the chair and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his chest.

He patted her back too hard, and winced. He was no good with crying girls.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fury**

**Chapter Six**

**Brothers**

Cate woke in an awkward position; from the cramp in her neck, she had been there for quite a while. She grunted as she sat up, her head feeling fuzzy and her eyes scratchy. She remembered last night all too well, but she had no idea how she had ended up in the large bed in the garishly blue room. She grabbed for her wand where it lay on a nearby impossibly red night table and cast a quick _Lumos_. The room was too dark for it to still be daylight; there was a faint light coming from under the door, but her wand was the only illumination.

She heard something crash in the other room and a muffled curse, but no one came to check on her. Sliding her legs out from under the blankets, she made her way carefully across the floor, nearly tripping on the edge of a yellow carpet. Creaking the door open, she saw George making his way from the fireplace, rubbing his shin and holding a broken lamp. A quick flick of his wand fixed the lamp, but did nothing for his bruised shin.

Cate closed the door slowly and leaned against it, trying desperately to calm herself. Bursting into tears, no matter how badly she wanted to do it, would not help her solve her current problem. The cryptic comment, the one that George, Harry, and Ron had been discussing over her head last night, raced through her mind. _Bad dog_.

Someone knew.

She heard George talking to someone, but didn't want to interrupt. She had no idea how long she had been there, no clue about what was being done in her apartment. And then there was Mimi.

The small cat had been her constant companion over the past few years. She'd helped Cate through some very rough times, and now she was just gone. She wouldn't sleep curled up at Cate's side, or play in her underwear drawer when she wasn't looking. She wouldn't sneak onto the table and eat scraps, or hiss at people passing on the other side of the door. She was gone.

Cate fought the tears that sprang up at the thought and wiped angrily at her eyes. Here she was, a grown woman, crying because of a stupid cat. She told herself that she just missed the cat, but it wasn't that at all. Her brother had given her Mimi the summer before he died.

A whispered _Nox_, and she was in the dark again, just as she should be.

* * *

Cate didn't know how long she stood against the door, fighting back tears and angry sobs, but it must have been quite a while. George was no longer talking to someone in the fireplace (she assumed that the person had been in the fireplace, because she hadn't heard anyone else in the apartment) and there were no noises from the other room. A quick glance around showed that there was no bathroom attached to the bedroom; she'd have to go into the other room and risk George seeing her with red eyes and a swollen nose. Unlike her sister, she didn't cry prettily.

Suddenly, the door pushed in hard, and she went flying across the dark room, knocking over a chair with a stack of clothing and dropping her wand, which emitted red sparks as it went sailing into the bed, lighting a corner of the blanket on fire.

There was a wordless shout, a crash, and George put the fire out quickly, a tray held loosely in one hand and a stack of broken dishes and spreading tea on the ground at his feet. He flicked his wand, and the lights came on in the room, leaving Cate no way to get to her feet in a dignified way.

George simply stared at the mess in front of him for a few seconds, then began to laugh uproariously. Cate, sprawled face first in a stack of shirts and clean socks, found herself laughing, too, even though she couldn't say why. George helped her to her feet, then rubbed his chin as he contemplated the mess in front of him. Grinning, he pulled her out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Cate choked on a laugh. "What about…"

George snorted. "Later. Merlin, I swear I'll clean it up later."

He brought her into the kitchen, which was surprisingly normal, and quickly boiled another pot of tea. She sat at his kitchen table and watched him pick out tea leaves and float the tea service to her, chocolate biscuits on a small plate in the middle of the tray. Cate couldn't help but find it funny; it was all so very normal, and that didn't go very well with her image of George, whose violet robes showed a large stain near the collar in putrescent green and another on the left sleeve that looked disturbingly like blood.

He sat across from her and poured the tea, and Cate sank into the normalcy of tea time. They didn't speak, except to ask for the other to pass the sugar or the biscuits. She found herself studying George, and he, in turn, watched her study him.

He wasn't much older than she was; in fact, he was just three years older than her, the same age as her sister Isabelle. She had heard stories of the infamous Weasley twins since her sister had started at Hogwarts, and had not been disappointed when she herself attended, during their fourth year. Even with the subdued atmosphere of the castle due to attacks on several students, they were still vibrant and lively, and Cate, though she didn't know them, and knew for a fact that her sister didn't wish to know them, found herself craving stories of their exploits. When she had been partnered with Ginny Weasley during their Potions lessons, she talked to the girl about their families, both of which were large, and brothers, which they both had.

Eventually, as she got older, she was less drawn to the twins' antics, and found herself focusing more closely on her studies. They left during her miserable fourth year in an explosion of fireworks and swamps, and Cate forgot about them for the next year or so in the terror that followed. It wasn't until You-Know-Who had taken over Hogwarts at the beginning of her sixth year, and the Wireless started broadcasting Potterwatch, that she really remembered the Weasley twins, and wondered what was happening to them. The end of the year, that terrible battle, left little room for any happy memories of school.

George cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Why are you staring at me?"

Cate blushed. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

George frowned. "You looked so sad," he said, then looked horrified to have said anything.

Cate smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. "I was thinking about Hogwarts, about you and your brother there. You were my heroes for a long time."

George's half-smirk, so constant, disappeared. He looked at his hands. "Yeah, well, F-Fred and I were memorable."

Cate looked down at the chocolate biscuit on her plate. "You were at that. I was thinking about the Final Battle, actually." When she saw his face, she wished desperately that she could have taken her words back.

George was gripping his teacup in white fingers, his eyes blank and staring. "I can't really forget it."

Cate shook herself. His usual humor was gone, and she wished she hadn't begun the stupid conversation. "I'm sorry. I can't either."

George nearly snarled as he stood, slamming the teacup onto the table and stalking over to the sink, his back to her. "What do you know about it? You weren't there. I was! I saw…it doesn't matter. You weren't there." He said it like an accusation.

Cate snapped the biscuit in half and wanted to throw it at his head. "I was, actually. I was at Hogwarts that year. My brother and I were there that whole year. And my younger brother was a first year. We weren't allowed not to attend. We weren't old enough."

George snorted. "That doesn't mean you were at the Final Battle. McGonagall evacuated all of the younger years."

Cate felt her hands shake. "I didn't leave. And neither did my brother. We sent Charles away, and then we stayed. We wanted to help."

George turned back to her, his face unreadable. "Nathan is too old. He would have graduated already."

Cate refused to look at him. "He was out of the country, actually, in America. My brother Leo was in his seventh year."

George took a step toward the table, frowning. "I didn't meet him at your house, did I? I can't remember all of their names."

Cate shook her head, ashamed at the tears that were forming. "No, you didn't meet him. During the battle, he was killed by a Death Eater. He threw himself in front of the Killing Curse for me."

There was silence for several minutes, as George processed the information and Cate tried to regain control of her emotions. It had been five years, but she still couldn't think about Leo without crying.

George seemed to make a decision and broke the silence. "I wasn't there when Fred was killed. We'd split up to help Harry, and my brother Percy was with him. Not me; stupid, arrogant Percy was with him. Percy made a joke, he said, a stupid, pointless joke, and Fred was laughing when the wall exploded on him. That's what everyone always says to me; at least he died laughing. They don't really understand that I would rather he wasn't dead."

Cate nodded slowly, wiping a stray tear off her cheek. "At least people talk about him. My family…it's like he never existed. We never say his name. And my mother blames me for his death."

George stared at her in stunned fascination. "That's why she was so… She blames you?"

Cate nodded slowly. "She told me, not very long ago, right after I moved into my own place, that she wishes that he had never saved me, because then he'd be here, and I wouldn't. Not that I can blame her."

* * *

They sat in silence for a minute before Cate stood and walked out of the room. George didn't follow; he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts. He didn't move until he heard knocking on his front door. Jerking himself out of his stupor, he made his way there, avoiding looking at the couch, where he could see Cate's dark head poking over the back.

Harry stood awkwardly, his hands thrust in his pockets. "Hey, George. Can I come in?"

George stood aside, holding the door open. "Yeah, sure. What's happening?"

Harry glanced over at Cate. "This is kind of a private matter, George. I need to speak to her alone, if you don't mind."

George shrugged. "No, that's fine. I made a bit of a mess in the spare room; I'll go straighten that up, shall I?"

Harry stared into his face. "Are you alright?"

George gave him a tired grin. "Fine. Just been thinking."

Harry patted him on the shoulder, walking into the apartment warily. "We'll talk soon, okay? Ginny wants you to come over soon; she says she misses you."

George found himself smirking. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger, eh, Potter?"

Harry smirked right back, his green eyes twinkling. "Has done for years, George. I'm just admitting it now. Unlike Ron."

Laughing, George shut the door and walked with Harry to the couch. Cate sat staring at the empty fireplace, her face blank and her eyes red and tired-looking. George cleared his throat. "Ah, Cate, Harry wants to talk to you. I'll be cleaning up that little mess in the spare room if you need me."

She nodded, transferring her blank stare to Harry who slumped into the armchair with a groan. "Thanks, George."

George smiled tightly, looking between the two. "Right then. Call if you need me."

Both pairs of eyes, one dark blue, one green, watched him walk into the brightly blue room and shut the door behind him. Harry drew his wand and cast a quick silencing charm on the door, smiling apologetically at her.

"Just a precaution." When she didn't respond, he leaned forward and continued. "Well, Miss Moon, we had a full team of Aurors sweep your apartment, looking for clues as to who could have broken in and, ah, done the damage. We found several cursed items scattered around your apartment; the nature of the curses leads us to believe that the objects weren't owned by you." He said the last questioningly, but she shook her head, mouth tensed and in a thin line. "There were a few curses on the rooms themselves that we were unable to remove; I have a specialist coming tomorrow to take care of it. You should be able to be back there by the end of the week. Do you have somewhere you can go?"

Cate shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I could go home, to the Manor…"

Harry winced. "Yes, that's an option, but from what George has implied…" He cleared his throat. "About the message…"

Cate looked at him, her face carefully neutral. "Yes?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "I took the liberty to check over a few things personally. One of my Aurors found a glass vial containing Wolfsbane potion. Can I assume that it was yours?"

Cate found her eyes welling up with tears she couldn't control. There was sympathy in his voice, but something else, too, something she couldn't place. "Yes, it's mine," she whispered.

Harry sighed. "I thought so. You are an unregistered werewolf…" At her questioning look, he grinned sheepishly. "I checked. I'm assuming very few know?"

Cate stared at her hands. "My parents and siblings. My grandmother. The person who makes the potion for me. No one else."

Harry nodded. "Then either someone close to you vandalized your apartment, or someone else knows."

* * *

After Harry left, nearly ten minutes later, Cate found herself staring at nothing. _Someone else knows…_ She'd made Harry promise to keep his findings out of his report, and he had agreed without trepidation, understanding what she was so afraid to say.

Though there had been advances in the past couple of years in werewolf rights, mostly thanks to Hermione Granger, a legal aide in the Ministry, there was so much prejudice left that the rights almost didn't matter. While yes, it was true that werewolves could now hold a steady job, and couldn't be fired simply because they were a werewolf, and were allowed to take the days around the full moon off, they could be fired for other reasons. And many still couldn't be hired, because of the Werewolf Registration Act, which required that all werewolves submit themselves to the Ministry to "protect the populace at large, and to assist the werewolf population." In reality, it was simply an excuse to watch them.

Recently, a new law had been passed down in the Ministry, requiring that all werewolves in England and Ireland have a safe house, a place where they would be safe to change and where others would be safe from them. Cate's father had built such a place, mostly for her, but he allowed many of the local Wizarding werewolves to take shelter there. The Muggle wolves, those poor souls, had to use special safe houses run by the Ministry.

She heard George open the door behind her and nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd almost forgotten that he was there, and that this wasn't her apartment. For a minute, she'd almost forgotten why she was here.

He looked at her sitting alone in the firelight. "Harry gone?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. George made his way around the couch and took Harry's recently vacated chair. "What'd he say?"

She shuddered. "He said I have to find a place to stay until the end of the week. Apparently, there are some pretty nasty curses in my apartment, and it isn't safe to go back."

He frowned. "Do you have somewhere you can go?" he asked, unconsciously echoing Harry's words from before.

Cate shrugged. "Back to the Manor, I suppose. My cousins will all be gone by now, and it'll just be my parents and grandmother. And Nathan. And Isabelle and Matthias. But it won't be so bad."

George nearly growled. "You said that your mother hates you."

Cate didn't look at him. "I never said that. She just…nothing I do is good enough for her."

"You said she wanted you dead," he mumbled under his breath; she had no trouble hearing him, and apparently he hadn't meant to keep it too quiet.

Cate ignored it. "I'll be fine. It's just for a few days."

He didn't look any less concerned. "What about the way we left? Won't your mum be a bit upset?"

Cate sighed. "I'll just have to apologize." She certainly didn't sound apologetic.

He waited, but when she didn't say anything else, he stared at his hands and said quietly, "You could stay here."

Cate blinked. "What?"

He looked at her wide eyes. "I said you could stay here. Like you said, it's only for a few days. And the apothecary is only a few stores down from the Wheezes. You could sleep in the spare room. No one else uses it."

Cate blinked at him stupidly. "Are you sure? You barely know me."

George grinned. "I know enough. You're pretty, and you won't murder me in my sleep, and you need a place to sleep." He stood and made his way towards the kitchen, throwing her a wicked smile over his shoulder. "Plus, you're one hell of a kisser."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	7. Chapter 7

**Fury **

**Chapter Seven**

**Tensions**

The next week and a half were filled with work and pleasure, though the two never connected. The de-cursing of her apartment took longer than had been expected, because there were a few more unpleasant discoveries, including one that sent a Curse Breaker to St. Mungo's with thorny silver vines wrapped around his legs. And while living with George above the shop made getting to the apothecary as quick as a walk down the street, she still had to contend with the working conditions that Madame Pine seemed determined to keep- Cate doing all of the work and getting none of the credit.

Those moments of anger and frustration were mixed with the sheer goofiness that living with George Weasley could bring. They had known each other for all of two weeks, and yet she thought him one of the most wonderful people she had ever met. He would come back from the shop an hour after she did, and would regale her with the stories of what had happened- what customer had bought what for whom, which mother had nearly cursed his bits for selling her darling little child such-and-such, and which pretty lady had sprouted rabbit ears after attempting to sneak a small trick out in her bag. She found herself laughing more in that week and a half than she could ever remember doing, even before Leo's death.

Harry had come a few minutes every day to tell her about the progress the Aurors were making with her apartment, but there were no leads, and soon he came simply to talk with the two of them, laughing nearly as much as she did.

That Saturday, when George had the day off and she had had to work, Harry popped by and invited George and Cate both to dinner. He dragged her with him as soon as she came back to the apartment, making grandiose claims that he simply could not stand being around his baby sister and her husband if he didn't at least have some company.

It had been awkward, at first, at Harry and Ginny's apartment, when they had shown up so unexpectedly early (George had said that they had to be there right at six fifteen, but she heard Ginny ask Harry whether or not he had told them to come at seven). She could hear Harry snigger in the background as Ginny greeted her brother, but that quickly stopped when she ordered him to set another place and stop being useless. Ginny then swept Cate up in a hug that belied how little they knew each other, and how long it had been since they had seen each other (their last Potions lesson together had been nearly five years ago).

Ginny gave her brother and husband _the look_, and then took Cate for a tour around their little apartment, chatting the whole time about how long it had been and how nice it was to see her. Gratefully, she didn't really seem to expect Cate to respond. She could hear the boys talking in the kitchen, but didn't know what about.

After the brief tour- the apartment was _tiny_- she and Ginny went to the living room slash dining room and began to catch up, as Ginny put it. They were acquaintances at best, it was true, but they had known many of the same people. In fact, Ginny was far more up to date on the gossip than Cate was, and she found herself relaxing and enjoying herself.

The boys joined them about ten minutes later, Harry distributing glasses of wine. Cate smirked at George, who seemed completely stunned at his sister's quick acceptance of her. Ginny and Harry sat comfortably on the sofa, Harry with his arm flung casually over Ginny's shoulders, while George lounged in the loveseat and Cate perched on the edge of her chair.

"So, George, how did you meet Cate?" Ginny asked, after a sip of the wine and a wicked grin at her husband.

George smiled dangerously at his sister. "We met in Diagon Alley, sis. It was love at first sight." He made a smooching sound at Cate, who giggled.

"Actually, he bowled me over, and then proceeded to compare me to my sister. What splendid manners your brother has."

Harry perked up. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Cate grinned wickedly. "I would expect that that is in fact a lie, Mister Potter, since you, of all of us here, are the only one to have access to my files."

Harry blushed as Ginny smacked him, and George merely gave her an appreciative look. "That may be true, Cate, but I didn't actually read all of it."

George crowed. "He admits it!" while Ginny snuggled closer. After a few more attempts at banter, they settled on the safer topic of Quidditch, which Ginny, it seemed, played professionally (Cate really only followed one team, though she thought she may have seen something in the papers). George seemed stunned that Cate knew anything about it at all, much less that she was quite eloquent about the sport. They all laughed when she told them her favorite team- the Chudley Cannons. Prepared to defend herself, she was surprised when everyone cheered her on.

Ginny giggled, her wineglass nearly half-empty and red spots on her cheeks. "Ron would love to talk to you, I'm sure."

George and Harry nodded enthusiastically, but it was Harry who broke the silence. "If Hermione would let him, I think he'd probably marry you."

They all laughed, though Cate's was a bit strained, and then the timer went off in the kitchen. Ginny stood, none too steadily, and Harry, looking like nothing so much as a lost puppy, followed her. In a few moments there were the sounds of the oven door opening, and much giggling. Harry stuck his head out with a goofy expression on his face and grinned.

"Talk amongst yourselves, yeah? It may be a bit." They saw a feminine hand pull his shoulder, and his head disappeared again.

Cate laughed out loud at George's disgusted look. "What?"

He groaned. "I know exactly what they're doing in there."

Cate took another sip of the wine. "Yes, and so do I. They're adorable, aren't they?"

George grunted. "That's my sister in there."

Cate stood up and flopped onto the loveseat next to George, after he moved his long legs. "Yeah, and that's the bloody Boy-Who-Lived kissing her, right? You are friends with him, aren't you?"

George nodded. "That doesn't mean I want to know what they do when I'm not around."

Cate laughed loudly. "As if the whole world doesn't know what we did! It was in the bloody paper!"

George smirked, tipping back the glass and finishing the wine. "You have a point."

Cate's smile dimmed. "Why did you kiss me?"

George's eyebrows shot up. "You want to talk about this now?"

Cate shrugged. "Why not? It seems we have time."

George drained his glass and turned slightly, facing her. "I kissed you because I was drunk and you were very pretty."

She blushed. "Really? Well, the first part of that statement wasn't very flattering, but I guess it'll have to do."

George nodded solemnly. "Of course. And if I may ask you a question, now?"

Cate forced her face into a serious look, though her eyes twinkled. "Absolutely."

He leaned closer until his face was just inches from hers. "What would you do if I kissed you again? Right now?"

Cate stared at his mouth, thoughts buzzing around her head at a mile a minute. "Um…that's two questions…"

Harry popped into the room. "Dinner's ready."

George winked at her, standing. "Saved by Harry."

Cate blushed. "We should all be so lucky."

* * *

The fireplace in George's flat flared up in green flames about midnight, and both Cate and George flopped out, laughing raucously.

George staggered drunkenly into the kitchen, flinging the leftovers into the icebox (Ginny was much like her mother, Harry had said, as she tried to give them everything left from the delicious meal). He then giggled as he made his way into the living room, only to see Cate slouched on the sofa.

"All set there, Catie girl?"

She blinked at him, hovering over her like some giant; they hadn't even turned the lights on yet. "Fine, Georgie porgie."

He leaned closer, put a hand to his right side and cupped it around where his ear had been. "Eh?"

She smacked him, laughing, and he tumbled onto the couch on top of her, tickling her sides.

Gasping for breath, she fought back, going for the sensitive areas on his ribs. Soon, they were rolling on the floor, knocking tables over and laughing uproariously. And then he kissed her.

She found herself sinking into it, and pulling him closer by his hair. They snogged for what felt like hours, but must have been only minutes, before she felt the awkwardness of the situation. Pushing him away, she sat up.

He stared at her dazedly. "What?"

Grinning, she pulled him in for another kiss, this time putting herself on top. When they came up for air, she laughed. "Rug was bunched up under my arse. Sorry."

He laughed and tickled her again, but it quickly turned to moans as his hands found better occupation elsewhere.

All too soon, they were removing clothing, their lips never leaving the other for long. And then he laid her down on the couch, putting himself on top of her, his shirt off and trousers undone, and her skirt bunched around her hips, only in her bra.

He kissed her again, and she could see stars behind her eyes.

"George? What the bloody hell, mate?"

They froze. The voice came from somewhere behind them, near the door.

She watched the emotions roll over George's face- first annoyance, then recognition, and then resignation. "Hi, Lee. Perfect timing, mate." He sat up and looked at someone, motioning for her to stay down. "What's wrong?"

Lee's voice was amused. "Nothing. I thought I could crash here tonight, but I can see I'm not wanted. I'll just get a room at the Leaky."

George grinned. "You do that. Alicia kick you out again?"

Lee groaned. "Nah, it was Angie this time. Long story, mate, but I can see that you're busy. I'll Floo you tomorrow, yeah?"

George nodded. "You be sure to do that. Bye, Lee."

Cate heard the door creak open. "Bye, George. Bye, um…bye!"

"And next time, Lee, Floo first." George managed to keep a remarkably straight expression on his face as he said the words, but Lee only snorted.

They waited until the door was closed before George's head sagged near her breasts. "Talk about timing."

Cate giggled. "At least it wasn't five minutes from now."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Really? What would we have been doing five minutes from now?"

She kissed him again, and then proceeded to show him.

* * *

The next morning, Sunday, dawned cloudy and dull, but Cate couldn't help but feel exhilarated. George's arm was flung across her middle, and his snores, though slightly annoying, were muted by his face in the pillow. Her hair, she thought, was a bird's nest of tangles and would be difficult to unknot, but certainly not impossible, especially not today.

George mumbled and pulled her closer, and Cate let him. He wasn't her first (a stupid night with a Ravenclaw seventh year during her fifth had claimed that title); he wasn't even her second, but he had been marvelous; she certainly had never laughed before during sex. She could hear her mother's scolding voice; one just _did not do_ what she had done with George before marriage, never mind that Isabelle and Matthias, among other cousins, probably weren't waiting for the wedding bells to ring.

She frowned when she heard voices in the other room, but ignored it, thinking that surely, George would have told her if someone were coming. When they didn't stop, but grew louder, she shook him awake.

"George?"

"Um?" he grumbled, not really moving.

"George, I think someone's here."

He shook his head, his face still down in the pillow. "Nah. Nobody but us here."

"George?"

He bolted upright as a man's voice called from the other room. "Bollocks."

Cate smirked, ogling his chest. "Told you."

He scrambled over her, poking her once in the stomach and nearly hitting her in the face with his elbow.

She pushed him off onto the floor, where he groped around for his pants. "Who is it?"

He stood and pulled the pants over his scarred and stocky frame. "It's my Dad. What day is it?"

She frowned. "It's Sunday."

George's face paled. "Bollocks."

Cate laughed. "You said that already."

George struggled with a t-shirt for a moment before throwing it on the floor and lunging for the doorknob. "I'm missing Sunday breakfast at the Burrow."

Cate frowned again, this time utterly confused. "The Burrow?"

He glanced at her for a moment, her breasts and legs just barely covered by a thin blanket, and his eyes darkened momentarily. "Merlin's beard. Stay here for just a minute, right?"

She nodded. "Fine, but…"

He raced out the door. Cate sighed and rolled onto the floor, picking up his discarded t-shirt (it was inside-out, bright red, and had a large neon green Wheezes logo dancing- literally dancing- across the front). She slid it over her head and peeked through the open door, hoping to get into her room without being seen. George was kneeling on the ground in front of the fireplace, his hair ruffled and shirtless.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I was out late with Harry and Ginny and lost track of time this morning. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Cate heard George's dad's answer, and froze. "Ginny told me about last night. Bring that girl along with; your mother wants to meet her. What's her name?"

George's voice sounded strained. "Cate? Yeah, sure, I can bring her with. No problem."

The man's voice was full of laughter. "Don't you think you should ask her first?"

George shook his head, dazed. "No, I'm sure she'd love to come. Be there in a bit."

"Bye, son."

George waved absently. "See you soon, Dad."

He stood and turned, his face stunned. "Cate?"

She stepped out from around the door. "Yeah?"

"Want to meet my family?"

She laughed. "Do I have a choice?"

He nodded. "Of course. I don't, but you don't have to come." He sounded disappointed, though, that she'd asked.

She smiled, staring down at the floor. "I'd love to come. After all, you've met mine." She blushed. "I should probably get dressed, though."

He grinned saucily, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "It can wait a little bit."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	8. Chapter 8

**Fury **

**Chapter Eight**

**Breakfast at the Weasleys**

They took nearly an hour for them to get to the Burrow, by which time the rest of the family had also arrived, and been briefed by Ginny as to who George was bringing with him.

They stumbled out of the fireplace (George's explanation being that Apparition on an empty stomach still full of wine was probably a bad idea) to shouts of welcome. Within seconds, an older woman with faded red hair had wrapped him in a hug and was scolding him for being late.

When she finally released him, the woman turned to Cate. "And who is this, George, dear?"

Cate blushed, suddenly aware that everyone in the room was staring at her. George flung an arm over her shoulder possessively. "Mum, this is Cate Moon. Cate, this is my mum, Molly Weasley."

Cate smiled lightly. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley."

But Molly's answering smile was much wider as she pulled Cate into a hug that had her gasping in shock. "Hello, dear; call me Molly. George didn't say he'd be bringing a guest. Introduce her to everyone, George. Ron, get the plates." This was said in a much sharper tone, and had the air of repetition.

George grabbed her hand and led her around the tiny kitchen. "Cate, this is Hermione, Ron's wife, and that's my brother, Ron; you've met him before." The bushy-haired girl who couldn't have been much older than she was waved at her and smiled, and Ron, with a wave of his wand that nearly sent the plates flying across the kitchen, waved at her as well. George smirked, and said in a loud whisper that could be heard throughout the kitchen, "She likes the Cannons, Ronnikins."

Ron's face lit up, and Hermione laughed. "Oh, no, did you have to tell him that, George?"

Harry and Ginny, Cate already knew, but the thin, serious man in glasses she didn't recognize, and who George introduced as "My older brother, Percy." He smiled at her, and then pushed his glasses back up his long nose. George pointed to the woman sitting next to him, with lovely golden blond hair and a wide smile in a freckled, though plain, face. "That's Audrey Campbell, Percy's girlfriend."

Then he led her into the living room, where the rest of his brothers waited for breakfast, along with an older gentleman that must have been George's father- she recognized him from the Floo- a little boy with turquoise hair and a severe looking woman that appeared older than George's father. She met Charlie, another of George's brothers, in the door between the kitchen and living room; he was, apparently, the only one without a date, as George quickly pointed out. Molly glanced longingly at her second son, but Charlie affected not to notice, and George didn't say anything more on the subject in front of his mother.

George pointed at everyone as he said their names. "Cate, that's my oldest brother Bill, his wife, Fleur, and their youngest daughter, Dominique. Their eldest is the girl playing with the boy- those're Victoire and Teddy Lupin. Andromeda Tonks, there, is Teddy's grandmother, and this…" he led her closer to his father. "Is my father, Arthur Weasley. Everyone, this is Cate Moon."

Cate smiled and said "Hi." in a timid little voice, suddenly overwhelmed. She didn't know why; her extended family was certainly larger than this, and they were always around the Manor. But there was something about this place, something about the people, that made her feel both shy and welcome.

As it was too cold to eat outside, and the kitchen was clearly not large enough for everyone, Molly ordered the tables put in the living room, and the furniture moved. George told her, as he passed by with a stack of silverware, that it was just like Christmas, and winked cheekily. Cate felt herself blushing for no reason, then, seeing all the activity, offered to help.

Molly looked surprised, and glanced at her sons, who were taking stacks of dishes and silverware, as well as chairs and napkins, into the living room. "No, but thank you, dear. Now, why don't you and the rest of the girls go and see how the boys are doing?"

Shooing them out of the kitchen, Molly bustled around the stove again, wand waving and food cooking itself. Cate, Ginny, Hermione, and Audrey (who was surprisingly friendly, given the seemingly uptight nature of her boyfriend and George's own comments on the subject) all moved into the doorway to watch. Fleur, Andromeda, and the children had disappeared, and it seemed like that had probably been a good idea; the boys waved their wands with abandon, and plates, silverware, napkins, and utensils flew around the room, some doing battle, some merely dancing an energetic jig. The other girls looked as though this were commonplace, but Cate had never seen anything like it; her family had certain rules of behavior, and making the silverware dance to the latest Weird Sisters tune was a definite no.

Audrey, laughing and grinning, quickly joined Percy as he attempted to get his brothers to actually set the table. Arthur, seated in a very comfortable-looking, if threadbare, chair, merely smiled and watched his boys having fun. Ginny snuck behind an unsuspecting Harry and put a conjured ice cube down his back; he shouted a curse and nearly leapt through the ceiling.

Hermione, standing beside her, was laughing uproariously, and turned to Cate. "Is your family anything like this?"

Cate grinned. "No. They're a little more…um, sober?"

Hermione laughed. "That's probably an understatement."

Cate looked at the older girl. "What about you? Is your family like this?"

Hermione grinned. "Not at all. Just me and my parents, and a couple of cousins. And it is- what did you call it?- a more _sober_ experience."

The girls laughed, getting louder as they watched Harry chase Ginny around the living room with a conjured snowball in hand, darting around brothers and furniture and laughing hysterically.

George had his wand out and was forcing the spoons to tap themselves to their proper settings. Cate walked up behind him and watched. He was so focused that he didn't notice her until Ginny caused Harry to drop the snow on his own head and tackled him into the ottoman. When she laughed, he nearly jumped over the table, and the silverware followed him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "So, sneaking up on the one-eared man? That's not very sporting, is it?"

Cate giggled, drawing her wand. "Here, let me help you with that."

George shook his head as he turned back to the silverware. "No, I've got it."

Cate raised a single eyebrow, and whispered something under her breath. George was so focused on the last set of silverware that he didn't notice the other settings rising in a smooth- and silent- arc, and form into a giant ear. Holding it steady, Cate watched the others in the room pause and wait for George's reaction.

He finally noticed Ron and Harry snickering in the corner, and looked up. A grin split his face, but Cate wasn't done yet. Another spell, and dozens of tinny voices suddenly echoed around the room. "Ear, ear!"

The room erupted in laughter, with Cate taking an enormous bow; George spun around in surprise, an enormous grin nearly splitting his face in two. "That was you?"

Cate looked at him innocently through her lashes. "Who else would it be?"

Everyone in the room was howling with laughter, and didn't calm down until Molly entered, trays and platters and pans following her in a strange train. With a flick of his wand, Arthur set the table before his wife was fully in the room, and everyone took their seats, Cate placed between George and Teddy Lupin, with Andromeda on the other side, and Ron and Hermione across from her.

She hadn't seen or tasted such good food since her days in Hogwarts. The meal was loud and rowdy, with at least five different conversations, punctuated by one adult or another telling Teddy to please sit down, not to flick egg bits at Harry, not to play with his food. Once, Molly sternly told George to let the boy eat in piece, and not have his food dance the tarantella across his plate or spelling naughty words.

There were no small children in Cate's family; the youngest were her twin cousins, who were both ten. Having three under the age of five was a shocking, and sobering, experience. So many of her cousins were getting married; would the family gatherings soon be like this controlled chaos?

The meal lasted almost two hours, and by the end, Cate knew more than she wanted to about Teddy's bowtruckle collection, Ron's fascination with the Cannons (which she shared, but not as heartily), Hermione's work, and Molly's disappointment with her second son over his lack of a date, or, indeed, a decent haircut. The other conversations- Fleur's impending promotion, Bill's earring, Percy's work (which wasn't as interesting as Hermione's), and Audrey's parents' disapproval over her career choice (Cate realized she didn't know what exactly it was that Audrey _did_)- were pushed gently to the background by the more exuberant conversations of the younger, and louder, boys.

After the dishes were cleared and Ron and Ginny roped into dishwashing duty, they all sat around the living room and talked, or played games, or talked about games, or played with the children. Cate was fascinated by the games the children played, and the way the adults acted around them.

Her family- other than her mother, and that was recent- were not particularly cold towards any of their children, but they had always been bundled off into another room, with the oldest watching out for the youngest. The parents occasionally checked on them, especially when they were younger, but with older cousins (assisted by the ever-present house-elves) and bossy aunts, there was rarely any trouble, and they were never bored. Here, however, the children were included, even encouraged, and any adult- even in the middle of a conversation- would play with any child. Dominique, the baby, a little over two years old, was passed around the room. When it was Cate's turn, she looked adoringly at the little blond girl sleeping in her arms; she had never held a child this young before.

Breakfast turned into lunch, which was just as tasty as the first meal, and then gradually, as it grew darker, into dinner. Cate felt a part of the family, and told George so as he passed by with a platter of dirty dishes for Charlie and Percy to wash. He grinned, pleased, and made a quick motion with his head, pointing to where Ginny, Hermione, and Audrey were sitting, playing with a simple deck of playing cards that one of the girls had conjured.

She joined them, and spent the rest of the night with the girls, talking and laughing and having a good time. Soon, she had lunch plans in two days with Hermione and Ginny, and she and Audrey were going to go shopping the next week. Fleur joined their group, and soon she was getting tips on how to do her hair in such a way that she looked both older and more innocent. They laughed and talked, and occasionally mocked their significant others.

It seemed that Ron and Hermione had only been married for a little over a year and a half, and Harry and Ginny's wedding were moving soon, after Ginny's career change from Chasing for the Holyhead Harpies to the sports section of the Daily Prophet. Percy and Audrey had been dating for a little over four months, with no long term plans as of yet, and Fleur had been married since before the war ended. This was Audrey's second visit on a Sunday, but Cate would have sworn the girl was already a daughter of the family. They talked about families, friends, colleagues, and everything else, and by the end of the night they were all good friends.

When the clock struck nine, Andromeda, the stern older witch who was much nicer than she looked, took a dozing Teddy home; Bill, Fleur, and the girls followed soon after. By nine thirty, Percy and Audrey left, both claiming early mornings, and Charlie followed soon after, kissing his tired mum on the cheek and giving Cate a saucy wink. At ten, George stood slowly and motioned to Cate.

"Well, Mum, we've got to get going. The shop opens early tomorrow, and Cate has work."

Cate felt a flush of something when he said that; she hadn't realized that he knew her schedule. Molly stood slowly, her face tired but happy; Arthur was asleep in his chair, and didn't wake at George's voice. Ron and Harry were playing chess, and the girls were watching, occasionally throwing out helpful hints, other times mocking the opposing player (though it seemed Hermione was the least helpful, and Ginny the most scathing).

As they entered the kitchen, Molly enveloped Cate in a warm, crushing hug. "It was lovely to meet you, Cate, dear. Please come again."

Cate grinned. "I would love that, Molly."

Molly grabbed her son next. "You make sure she gets home safe, alright, and then straight home for you."

"That's not too hard," George answered without thinking, grinning cheekily.

Suddenly, there was a tension around Molly that hadn't been there before. Her voice was a quiet hiss as she asked, "What do you mean?"

George flinched, and Cate took an unconscious step backward as Molly began to swell.

* * *

In the other room, everyone jumped as Molly's strident voice echoed through the door.

"What do you mean she's living with you?"

* * *

By the time they stumbled into George's flat, it was nearly midnight, and their ears were ringing.

Molly hadn't taken the fact that Cate was staying at George's very well. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had left as quickly as possible, leaving the chess pieces set up and yelling in their tiny voices at the cowards. Arthur had gone quietly upstairs, leaving an angry Molly, a red-faced George, and a stunned Cate alone in the kitchen.

Molly's wrath had been short-lived when she found out the reasons behind Cate's staying, until George let it slip that he had only known her for a couple of weeks, and that she was the girl he had been kissing on the front page. She had, at one point, burst into tears, and Cate, with an insight she didn't know she possessed, conjured up a teapot and teacups, and made Molly sit at the table and calm down.

She found herself admitting that she had feelings for George, something that still made her blush, and George had told his mother that she was probably the nicest girl he had ever met, and that she had made him happy for the first time in a long time.

When they arrived, brushing soot from their clothing, Cate deflated suddenly, sinking onto the sofa. George joined her.

"Not exactly the perfect end to the night," he said, sighing.

Cate smiled tiredly, closing her eyes. "At least you know she cares." She leaned sideways, resting her head on his shoulder.

After a long pause, George cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, you don't have to go to your…um…you can stay with me, tonight. If you like."

Cate opened her eyes and looked at him, face serious. "What exactly do you expect me to do tonight, George?"

He smiled quickly, and the words came out in a rush. "Nothing, nothing!" He blushed. "I just liked waking up with someone," he mumbled, blushing.

Cate smirked. "Let me get changed. I'll be right in." Standing, she paused at the doorway to her bedroom. "I liked waking up with you, too, George."

* * *

The days seemed to drag on over the next two weeks, but the nights more than made up for it. She had lunch with Hermione and Ginny, was yelled at by her boss a few times, and met her brother Nathan for lunch in the park on her day off. She and Audrey had shopped for hours, and she'd found a kindred soul; they hadn't left the bookstore until they'd each found at least a dozen titles to read. George was at the shop all day, every day, often not coming back to the flat until well after nightfall.

The Aurors, so Harry said, were nearly done. There had been several other curses found, but no one else had been injured; her house-elf had cleaned behind the teams, and made sure everything was in order. They were checking her mail for curses as well, and Harry had intercepted one written in what looked like pencil, but which turned out to be silver ink. He had told her in private that someone must know, and to think of anyone, but she had no idea; most of her cousins didn't even know.

December approached, and so did the full moon. Cate arranged to stay at her parents the night of, and told George that she would be gone. He had seemed surprised, but not unopposed; it seemed that Lee had invited him out that night, anyway, and he hadn't been sure if he would go or not. Now he could go without feeling guilty. She began to feel that he never wanted her to leave; she had long since acknowledged that she would miss him when she had to go back to her apartment, though she would like a little privacy, perhaps, once again.

He still didn't know her secret, and she wanted it to stay that way.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	9. Chapter 9

**Fury**

**Chapter Nine**

**Shadows Fall**

The night of the full moon approached as usual. She had the day off; Madame Pine's business had been a bit slow of late, though as Christmas approached, so would the shoppers. She was left alone in George's flat all day, and spent it cleaning. She felt as though she could jump out of her skin; there was a tingling along her shoulders and arms that told her, as if she didn't know, that moonrise approached. As the sun sank closer to the horizon, she began to grow restless, and her eyes burned. By five, she had to Apparate; if she waited much longer she thought she'd go crazy.

Reesa, her house-elf, had dutifully brought her the Wolfsbane Potion every day at six, right after she returned from work and before George came. She seemed to share Serenity's position on Cate staying with a practical stranger, but followed her mistress' orders and was never seen; in fact, she had very little to do, and was bored.

Cate drew her wand, appearing silently on the path to the Manor. Forgoing visiting her family- which, according to Reesa, was just her parents and Nathan currently, as Isabelle had taken a short vacation with her fiancé- she walked behind the house, going straight to the fenced in woods.

Wolfsbane Potion could be purchased at certain apothecaries and potion houses, and the Ministry helped those who could not afford it themselves. Even with the potion, a werewolf could still be dangerous, and so designated areas had been set aside as fenced enclosures where the wolf could run free and not harm anyone, or be harmed themselves. Cate's father had volunteered part of his land to a werewolf enclosure, and maintained it himself. There were four werewolves there on any given full moon, with the occasional addition of one or two others, all locals.

It seemed that Cate was not the first to arrive. Jeremiah Nomes was leaning casually against the fence, arms crossing his thin chest, face set in a frown.

"Your father said to wait until you get here before he would let me in." His voice was much deeper than she would have guessed, and still surprised her, even after three years.

Cate sighed. "Did he say why?"

Nomes shrugged. "Nope. Hoped you knew."

She shook her head. "I'll just…go find out, shall I?"

He shrugged again. Cate began to walk back to the house, calling over her shoulder, "Tell the others I'll be right back." She thought he may have grunted, but kept walking.

She was met at the door to the greenhouses by a droop-eared Reesa. "Reesa is sorry, Miss. Reesa had to tell when Master Moon asked."

Cate smiled tightly at the little elf. "That's okay, Reesa. I'm not mad. You have to do what my father says, and that's fine. I don't blame you."

Reesa's ears lifted slightly. "Thank you, Miss," she said in a little voice that somehow managed to be more high-pitched than normal.

Cate frowned as she entered, looking both ways down the hall. "I don't suppose you know where my father _is_, do you?"

Reesa gave her an elfish grin. "Yes, Miss! Follow me, Miss!"

The little elf began to jog down the hallway, only slowing when Cate begged her to, and led her to a closed door. Cate dismissed her and entered quietly, dreading what she might find.

Hierophant Moon was alone in the billiards room, standing next to a table with cue in hand; none of the balls had been moved from their starting position, and there was a full glass of some brown liquid next to him. He didn't turn to face his daughter.

"There are three new guests coming tonight." His voice was low and quiet, and Cate felt uneasy.

"Alright. I'll help them settle in." She waited, knowing that something was bothering him, but when he didn't say anything, broke the silence. "Is that all?"

Hiero spun on his heel, whipping the cue against the wall and sending a painting crashing to the floor. "No, that bloody isn't all! I find out from your bloody _elf_ that you have been staying with some man and haven't been in your apartment for nearly a month! Why didn't you tell us?" His mouth tightened. "Me. You could have told me."

Cate stood there calmly. "You would have told Mother, and she would never have approved."

Hiero growled. "That's not a reason and you know it! How long was this going to go on before you told me yourself?"

Cate stared him down, not rising to the bait. "I'm sorry you had to find out from Reesa, Dad, but I really need to get down there before the others arrive. Nomes is already there."

Hierophant picked up the glass at his elbow and flung it at the wall. "Damn it, Catherine! Don't you take that tone with me! Where have you been staying?"

Cate had flinched as the glass shattered, and struggled to keep her temper down. "I've been staying with a friend, Dad, while my apartment is cleaned. I'm not going to talk about this now."

Hiero stalked around the table, grabbing her arm. "We will talk about this, Catherine. I promise you."

Cate snarled unconsciously. "Tomorrow. Now let me go." In a softer voice, she said, "I don't want to hurt you, Dad, and now is not the to have this discussion."

He released her and walked away, back stiff. "Get out of my sight."

* * *

She met Nathan in the hallway as she stalked out of the billiards room. Her older brother lounged against the paneled walls, ignoring the protests of the portraits as he blocked their line of sight.

"So." Even his voice was smirking.

She glared at him. "Now is not the time, Nathan."

He shrugged. "I know. But Dad didn't. Obviously. I just wanted to say…"

She held up a hand and glared at him. "Don't. Just don't."

Nathan frowned. "I was going to say congratulations."

She paused and frowned. "For what? I haven't done anything."

He threw up his hands. "Oh, please. You got out of here. You don't care what they think. That's far and away above what I've done."

"Which is what, exactly?" She could feel her temper boiling under the surface, but at the same time, there was a genuine curiosity.

"You live on your own for years, in a tiny place you pay for _by yourself_, with a job you got _by yourself_. You allegedly move in with a man a week after snogging him in front of the entire Wizarding world, thus upsetting Gram's high opinion of you, and lowering Mother's already low opinion. You don't take money from them." He shrugged, running a hand through black hair that was just like hers. "I live here, getting an allowance worth more than you make in a month, and take a pity job from one of Dad's friends just to get the hell away from the Manor during the day. I don't think I could live like you do."

Cate stared at him. "Is there a compliment buried in there, or was everything designed to make me feel worse?"

Nathan frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know."

She blinked. "Goodnight, Nathan."

* * *

By the time she arrived back at the iron gate that led into the werewolf enclosure, everyone had arrived. Jeremiah Nomes was normally the youngest, besides her, at age thirty-three; Ophelia Jackson was nearly fifty, and Zacharias Turner was sixty if a day. Three others stood awkwardly to the side, and she introduced herself to them briskly.

Tobias and Ezekiel Lewis were brothers, and had been turned after the last full moon, bitten on the Continent by a stray werewolf that no one had known about and who was now dead. They were about twenty, maybe a little older, and terrified. Ophelia had taken it upon herself to reassure them as best she could, but this first change would be hard on them. The other new arrival, Irene Blake, was about thirty, a pretty woman with short brown hair and sharp hazel eyes. She had been bitten as she picked herbs in the full moon for a potion; she was one of the few Potions Masters that could brew Wolfsbane. She had a bitter set to her mouth; as a Wolfsbane brewer, she was also one of the few that knew what being a werewolf did to the human body.

Cate told them all the rules- no leaving the enclosure until morning, no biting, and all articles of clothing placed in the box near the gate before entering. In the morning, her father would let them out; it was impossible to ensure that a wand wouldn't be broken while changed, and dangerous not to seal the enclosure with magic; they would be trapped until then. A few quiet minutes later, Reesa appeared with vials of Wolfsbane, compliments of the house; Cate thought hers a bit bitterer than normal, but none of the others complained, so she didn't.

Nomes and Zacharias began to strip without a word; both had been werewolves for over ten years, Zacharias for almost half of his life. The Lewis brothers hid behind a bush as they stripped, and blushed furious crimson as they placed their clothing in the box and tried to hide behind each other.

Ophelia and Cate took Irene aside and all of the women stripped on the edges of a little clearing, Cate the least embarrassed of them all. Ophelia had been a werewolf for almost two years; Cate had been one for more than five. Irene barely said two words, but Ophelia was chatty, not looking at anything but the trees, and obviously ignoring the men.

They all entered the cage together, and the older three took off immediately to find a place to change in peace. Cate quickly explained to the new werewolves, as the sun began to touch the horizon, that the change was best when alone, and then they could do as they wished; the enclosure was nearly half a kilometer square, so space wasn't limited.

She wandered off herself, avoiding the areas where she knew Ophelia and Zacharias liked to change, going towards the tiny grove that was her own changing place, near the west perimeter.

The sun touched the horizon, and she waited until the moon rose, feeling the itching and stretching that said moonrise was coming. The first kiss of white light over the horizon, and her body began to burn.

Darkness descended, and then nothing.

* * *

The first thing she felt was pain, and immediately she knew something wasn't right. The pain was sharp, feeling first like fire, then as though tiny knives were stabbing her in every inch of her body. The potion should have dulled the feeling; it was one of the things that made it so sought after. The next was that she wasn't where she usually was when she woke up; like the beginning of the night, when the change began, it was best that the return was done alone. Since they were given their human minds as well as reasoning, this was usually as simple as returning to where the night had begun.

Light pierced her eyelids, and she realized they were closed. Opening them took far too much effort, and she groaned. Sight blurry, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees.

The ground was wet.

Her first thought was that it must have rained, no matter that the Wireless had said that there would be no clouds at all. But then, lifting a sticky hand, she saw that the grass and dirt in front of her was torn up and matted with blood.

Horror was slow to come, but it did appear.

She had been warned, when she was first turned, that werewolves were predators, and had been designed to both bite and kill humans, to propagate the species and to eat something worthy of their new talents. With the new laws and potions, and a human conscience, it was rare that a werewolf would hunt a human, let alone kill them, but it was in their nature to do so. She had been warned, but hadn't understood. She'd never been without the potion.

There was a body, lying half-covered in leaves and torn up grass, only a few feet in front of her. Deep gouges and teeth marks showed where she had bitten him and…_Merlin_…

She leaned over and vomited, spewing what she hoped was all the flesh she had eaten. The thought alone made her vomit again, trying desperately to kill the thought and the taste.

She dragged herself away, realizing, for the first time, that she was naked and covered in blood. The sight of the dried red strings covering her body was enough to make her gag, but she had nothing left inside of her. Gulping in huge breaths, she crawled away from the body, not daring to look back.

She had no idea where she was, but she was sure she was no longer near the Manor. For one thing, the Manor, other than the front (which she would see, and she didn't), was surrounded by trees, most twice as tall as the house, at the least. For another, it was no where near the sea, which she could hear crashing somewhere nearby. And, lastly, the Manor was in the middle of hilly woods, not perched on a cliff with no trees and short, dry grass.

The man's body had a wide trail leading away from her; she had obviously dragged him here, and then begun to…to…

She couldn't finish the thought. Standing on painfully shaky legs, Cate took in her surroundings. Nearby stood a little stone cottage, white in the early morning sun. It wasn't that far to walk, but she didn't know if the man had lived there, or…

She had to take the chance. Her wand, like her clothing and identification, lay locked in the box near the fence on the Manor's property. She would just have to hope that whoever lived in the stone house could help her.

Stumbling across the uneven, rocky ground, Cate made her way to the white cottage. It took far longer than she would have liked, but she was glad that no one was there to see her.

The brilliantly yellow front door, when she tried the handle, was locked, so she raised a shaking hand and knocked. A gruff voice called out for her to wait, and there were sounds inside. The door was yanked open suddenly, and she found herself staring up at the tallest, broadest person she had ever seen (excusing Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts, who was half-giant). The man had brilliant blue eyes that pierced and made her flinch, straggly dirty blond hair, and a wide beard that fanned across his chest from a weak chin.

If she was stunned to see him, he was no less stunned to see her. "Oh, lass, what's the matter with ye?" She almost couldn't understand a word; his accent was Scottish, the brogue thick and voice low.

She shivered. "I need help…" Her voice was weak, and trailed off. And then she slumped forward into the man's arms, heedless of her nakedness, and fainted.

Cate woke slowly, for the second time that day, because of the sun on her face. This time, the light was dimmer; it was trying to pierce through glass nearly a foot thick, and lacy curtains with brown stains around the edges.

"Alright, lass?"

She jumped; she hadn't noticed the man sitting on a stool next to the bed, waiting. Cate nodded, then looked at herself. She was still covered in blood, but was no longer naked; she wore a long shirt in dark green that buttoned up the front.

The man blushed. "Ah, sorry, lass, but I thought you might be more comfortable…"

Cate nodded jerkily. "Thanks…thank you."

She jumped again at a squawk in the corner, and the man seemed annoyed for the first time. "Off with ye, Egil!"

He turned slightly, yelling at what was, quite possibly, the largest owl she had ever seen, perched on a stand of driftwood.

She looked around the tiny cottage, made smaller by the size of the man inside. A cauldron hung near the smoking fireplace, and through an open cupboard door she saw a can of Mrs. Skower's Magical Mess Remover- Extra Strength. She felt something akin to relief for the first time.

"Are you a wizard?"

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	10. Chapter 10

**Fury **

**Chapter Ten**

**Rescue from an Unexpected Source**

Cate waited at the kitchen table as the man- his name, he revealed, was Alistair Keith, but if she could just please call him Al?- prepared a large, hearty breakfast for her, talking all the while of nothing, and certainly not asking questions.

Al had, at her request, sent his giant owl, Egil, to George, with a note about her whereabouts, and a plea to come to get her. When she had asked Al where they were, he hadn't batted an eyelash before saying, in a gruff voice, that they were in the Outer Hebrides, and then had given her exact coordinates. She had no one else to owl; her father surely hated her, and her brother, while a lovely human being, wasn't the most helpful. Her grandmother was in France for two more weeks, and none of her aunts or uncles knew what she was.

It was only after she had sent the note that she realized that George didn't know, either. She would have given anything to take it back, then.

In the meantime, Al set a plate piled with ham and eggs in front of her, ordering her, in his gruff, Scottish voice, to dig in.

Al was surprisingly helpful for a man who had had a girl show up on his doorstep, far too early, naked, and covered with blood. He said he had seen stranger things, and she almost believed him. He asked her who was coming to get her, and how she had gotten there, but she gave as little as possible, and he soon changed the subject to his rocky garden, and pests. They were nearly finished with the pan of eggs when Egil flew through the window, uttering a low hoot.

Al tipped the rest of the eggs in his dish, and Cate straightened. George was coming.

Sure enough, there was a brisk knock on the door only a few minutes later, and George's voice calling out. Al opened the door, and she saw George take a step back before seeing her.

"Cate!"

He pushed past Al- no mean feat- and rushed to her side. She suddenly realized what a sight she must be, covered in blood and wearing a man's shirt that reached past her knees. Regardless, she threw her arms around George and felt immeasurably better.

George's voice, muted, came above her head. "If you've hurt her, I swear…"

Al's low rumble of a laugh echoed in the tiny cottage. "Not I, no. Found the lass like that this morning on my doorstep. Figured she needed help."

George gripped her tighter. "Then thank you. I'll take her home now."

Cate pushed him away gently. "Thanks for coming, George."

He looked down at her quickly. "You knew I would."

She nodded noncommittally, then turned to Al. "Thank you for your hospitality. And the shirt. I'll return it as soon as I can."

The big man blushed. "No problem, lass. And don't worry about the shirt. Keep it."

Cate blushed herself, mumbled thanks, and then let George lead her outside.

When the bright yellow door had closed behind her, he murmured, "Are you really alright?"

Cate shook her head. "George, there's a body…"

He blew out a heavy breath. "I thought…is that why…"

She shivered, not answering the questions he couldn't ask. "It's over here."

She gripped his hand tightly, shaking the closer they got to the body of the man she had killed. As soon as they were close enough, George cursed, not looking at her. She stared at the ground, and so didn't seen his face turn white and clammy.

"Merlin, Cate, what happened?"

She flinched. "I…I woke up…I wasn't supposed to be here, you see, I was supposed to be near the Manor…I woke up, and I was here, and he was there, and I don't know what happened, because I'm a werewolf, and the bloody potion didn't work like its supposed to…"

She stopped as George turned away. "You don't remember killing him?"

Cate shook her head, tears welling up. "No, but I must have…the teeth marks…"

He made a gagging sound. "Don't say that!"

She turned back to the bloody mass on the ground, and said, in a small voice, "I need your help."

There was a long pause. "And here I thought that maybe you went out with your cousins, got a bit drunk, and forgot where you Apparated to. Maybe did something stupid, like get married. I never… I don't know if I can…"

She rushed forward and grabbed him. "I don't know what to do! Tell me what to do! Please, George! I need you! There's no one else I can trust with this!"

His eyes were bleak, but determined, his voice expressionless. "Fine. But you do what I tell you, alright?"

She nodded.

* * *

They Apparated back to his flat, and Cate collapsed bonelessly on the floor, exhausted. George stared helplessly at her before turning towards the fireplace and grabbing a handful of Floo powder.

Cate barely heard the name (Harry Potter!), or the conversation, but soon his arm was under hers, and he was leading her to the bathroom. Once inside, he stripped off the heavy shirt that Al had given her and let it hit the floor. Turning on the water, he stripped as well, and then pulled them both in the shower.

It could have been sensual, but it wasn't. He scrubbed the blood with no comments, making sure there wasn't anything left on her, flinching every time he had to touch one of the scars that marked her body. Soon, he was washing her face, and she didn't know whether it was shower water or tears that ran down her face, but she was in his arms, crying.

He led her into his room, grabbing a robe and a change of clothes for her before dressing himself. Then he tucked her into his bed, leaving her black hair unbrushed and loose around her face. Kissing her forehead, he dragged the curtains closed and left her alone. She was asleep in seconds.

* * *

She woke refreshed to the sound of raised voices in the other room. She wore the clothes George had given her- a bright pink top and soft black pants- with the robe- brilliant red with glowing salamanders crawling up the sleeves- over the top. Her hair was a mess, and there were rings under her eyes, but there were no longer streaks of blood everywhere.

She crept to the door, opening it a crack to see George, wand drawn, facing down Harry and Ron, who also had their wands out, and another man, who was unfamiliar; all three were in maroon robes.

"She as much as confessed, George!" Harry's voice had the tired sound of someone repeating themselves once too often.

"I don't care what you think she said, Harry, but I know her! She wouldn't do that!" George's voice was angry; she could almost feel the fury pouring off of him.

Ron's voice was just as angry, and his ears, like George's face, were bright red. "You don't know what she's capable of, George. She wasn't herself last night! I like her, too, but you have to let us do our jobs!"

Cate had heard enough. Pushing open the door, she watched with detachment as the stranger drew his wand. "George, put your wand down. I'll go with them."

He didn't look at her. "You don't know what they said about you!"

Cate smiled at Harry, who didn't smile back. "They said I was a werewolf, and that I killed that man last night."

George shook his head. "I don't believe it."

She walked towards him, aware of the wand on her. "Which part? I told you what happened last night; I told you what I am. They'd have to be stupid to doubt that I could do it, and you could hardly accuse them of being stupid."

George snorted. "Like bloody hell I can't."

She put her hand on his arm. "George, please."

He looked down at her, his eyes angry and red and sad, all at once. "Don't make me let them take you."

She smiled gently. "Don't make them hurt you. Please. Let me go." Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to grin cheekily. "Visit me? Conjugal visits are allowed, right?"

He choked back something akin to a laugh. "Don't…don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. I know you, and you wouldn't do that."

She tried to keep the brightness in her voice. "Then they will let me go, and Harry and Ron will apologize for being wrong and drawing their wands on you. But you have to put your wand down first and let me go."

He nodded and lowered his wand, grabbing her in a bear hug. He buried his face in her hair, and she held him as tightly as she could. He mumbled something that she couldn't hear.

Harry tapped her shoulder. "Cate, I'm sorry." He stood taller, his wand held loosely but competently in his hand. "Catherine Moon, I am arresting you under suspicion of being an unregistered werewolf and for the murder of an as yet unidentified person. Place your hands in front of you, please, and surrender your wand."

Cate let George go, kissing him on the cheek. "My wand is at the Manor. It…it should be with my clothes from yesterday."

Harry nodded, tapping her hands. Manacles appeared, heavy and tight. "Moretti, search her."

The stranger, a gleam in his eye, patted her down roughly. Ron's "Oi!" was ignored; Moretti seemed disappointed as he said, "She's clean."

Harry sighed, and seemed years older. "George, when I know something, I'll let you know as soon as possible."

George nodded, face haggard.

And then Ron grabbed her arm, and she was Apparated away. The last thing she saw was George's anguished eyes and his wand falling to the floor from nerveless fingers.

* * *

She didn't know how long she sat there, in that little room that was neither cell nor waiting room. The room itself was square, and a plain, boring gray, with a metal table and two chairs attached to the floor. For a brief moment, she wondered what would happen if someone was too…big…to fit in the chairs, and giggled, but remembered where she was and squashed the errant giddy thought.

She tapped her fingers on the metal of the table top, humming along to what she thought might be the latest Weird Sisters tune; she couldn't really remember the words to the song. Waiting was driving her crazy. When the song was done playing in her head, she began to pick at her nails; she found a little dried blood under the nails that George had missed, and in a frenzy began to dig it out. She was on her third nail when there was a sound at the door.

She jumped, making the chair squeak, and blushed brilliant red as the door opened. Harry Potter- as _the_ Harry Potter, Auror Extraordinaire- entered, looking stern, followed by Ron and a woman she didn't recognize. Harry and Ron were both sober looking, though Ron gave her a small, tight smile, but the woman had a stern, unforgiving face, with a gleam in her eye that said that she was either extremely pleased with herself or slightly insane.

Harry sat in the opposite chair, and the woman conjured a plain, utilitarian chair from nothing and sat slightly behind him, crossing her legs and looking prim. Ron leaned against the door casually, but Cate wasn't fooled; they thought she was dangerous. Well, to be honest, she was, but that time had passed when the moon went down and the sun came up. Now, she was little old Cate Moon, apothecary assistant and daughter of a Pureblood family- which might not exactly help her now, come to think of it.

Harry placed a roll of parchment on the table, along with a quill, and tapped it with his wand. "My name is Harry Potter, Auror in charge of the investigation. I am joined in this inquiry by Ronald Weasley, Auror, and Demetria Brooke, liaison from the Werewolf Services Office. This is the interview of Catherine Moon. The time is eighteen eleven, and this interview is being recorded. Please state your name for the record."

It took Cate a second to realize that he was talking to her. "Oh, sorry. My name is Cate."

Harry smiled. "Full name, please."

Cate blinked. "Right. Catherine Elizabeth Moon."

Harry nodded, watching the quill as it sped across the paper. "Birth date?"

Cate watched the quill as well, watched it pause after writing her name, hovering over the paper. "October 22nd, 1981."

"Age?"

Cate sighed. "Twenty-three."

Harry opened his mouth for another question, but the woman, Demetria Brooke, interrupted. "How long have you been an unregistered werewolf, and were you aware that it is a crime to withhold this information from the Ministry?"

Cate stared at her for a second, mouth wide, before she clamped it shut. Harry glared at the woman. "Ignore that question, Miss Moon. How long have you been a werewolf?"

Cate glanced at the woman, whose mouth was pursed into a narrow line and whose muddy brown eyes were full of anger. "I've been a werewolf since I was sixteen."

Ron's mouth opened and closed, but he didn't say anything. Harry sighed. "What were the circumstances surrounding your biting?"

Cate frowned. "I thought this was an interview about the man I…the man I found."

Harry nodded. "It is, but we need to know more about you. For the record." He didn't add anything, and the woman, Demetria, simply looked smug.

Cate nodded. "Fine. I was at Hogwarts during the Siege, when Death Eaters held the school."

Demetria interrupted. "That has never been fully substantiated."

Harry stared at her, stunned. "Yes, it has. I have given testimony, as well as the other students and teachers at the school. But that is neither here nor there. Continue."

Cate watched Demetria's face as she continued. "My parents didn't support You-Know-Who, even though they were wealthy Purebloods. My family always supported Albus Dumbledore, even if wasn't publicly acknowledged. When my father refused to join You-Know-Who, an order was sent to Hogwarts. Either one of my brothers was to be set outside during the full moon, or I was. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Fenrir Greyback was expert at changing children. I don't know who chose me, but I can tell you it wasn't Greyback; he would have preferred my younger brother, Charles, who was eleven. I was chosen instead. I was placed outside, near the Forbidden Forest, and tied to a tree. No one knew but the Death Eater that had been given the order and the one that escorted me, if they weren't the same person."

Harry glanced up at her, confused. "You said brothers. I was under the impression that your older brother, Nathan, was in America during this time."

Cate nodded. "I had another brother, Leo. He died, later, in the Final Battle."

There was a moment of silence, where both Ron and Harry looked pained, and Demetria continued to look smug.

Cate sucked in a breath. "I was bitten, and the next month, I was changed for the first time. I was put in a dungeon under the school, along with a few others who had been changed, and we weren't released until the next day. My parents were told, and given the choice to either join You-Know-Who or lose another child. They didn't have to choose; the Final Battle took place a couple of weeks later. Leo died. I survived."

She paused, trying to regain control of herself. "I never registered because the Ministry was in huge disarray after the war, and by the time things were settled, I had been a werewolf for over a year. My father set up the refuge on our lands, and nothing ever went wrong. I moved on."

Demetria Brooke looked gleeful. "You have admitted to knowingly passing yourself off as a normal witch, endangering the population with your recklessness. Aurors, I demand you arrest her for this, immediately."

Ron leaned casually against the wall, and Harry grimaced. "Thank you, Miss Brooke. Your services are no longer required."

She stared at him, mouth dropped open in shock. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

Harry raised a brow. "You are interfering with an open investigation. Please leave, before I have you escorted out. You will be apprised of the situation when the investigation is closed."

"Do you have any idea…" she snarled through her teeth.

Harry's entire body straightened, and he gathered authority around himself like a cloak. "Miss Brooke, you are not helping. Now leave the room before I have Auror Weasley escort you out of the division."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. "If you say another word, Miss Brooke, other than 'Yes, sir,' I will have you escorted out of the _building_."

She stared at him for a second, muddy brown eyes radiating anger, before she hissed, "Yes, sir," and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. A ward, not visible before, flashed briefly before becoming invisible once again.

There was silence in the room, and the minutes ticked away.

Cate cleared her throat, breaking the silence, but Harry spoke before she could. "Miss Moon, the charges against you are serious. We have not been able to identify the body of the man you found, but there is evidence that he was killed by a werewolf. Where were you last night?"

Cate felt her heart sink. They thought she had killed that man. For all she knew, she had.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	11. Chapter 11

**Fury **

**Chapter Eleven**

**Caged**

She sat against the wall of her tiny cell, feeling the cool stone against her back through the thin fabric of the jail robes. They were unflattering, to say the least, and her sister Isabelle would have had a fit. She didn't know how long she had been in the cell, since there was no clock. It had been four meals, at least, and that had to mean something.

* * *

She had talked to Harry, with the occasional question from Ron, for almost three hours, with none of them getting anywhere. Harry had sighed, finally stopping the quill, and motioned Ron forward.

"I'm sorry, Cate, but you'll have to stay here at least tonight. Ron, bring her down to the cells?"

Ron had been taking her, rather gently, to the cells below the Auror Department, where those waiting for trial or transport were held, when he was stopped by two burly men- both at least as tall as he was but twice as wide- and two women. One was Demetria Brooke; the other, plumper, older, and with a slightly sweeter face under a cap of snowy white hair, Cate recognized from the newspaper. She had a column every month, listing werewolf safety tips, right before the full moon. Her name, according to the Daily Prophet, was Vivienne Winslow, head of the Werewolf Services Office. From the satisfaction on Demetria's face, this wouldn't be good for Cate.

The woman had a low, pleasant voice that hid an edge of pure steel. "Auror Weasley, please hand over the prisoner to my men. You have no jurisdiction in this matter."

Ron looked surprised, but was polite, something he had struggled to be with Demetria. "Madame Winslow, I'm afraid that you're mistaken. She is a suspect in a murder case; clearly, this is for Aurors, not your office."

Vivienne Winslow crossed thin arms over an ample chest and raised her eyebrows. "Shall I talk with your superior officer about your rudeness, Mr. Weasley? This girl is an unregistered werewolf, and should be held by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures until it is decided what should be done with her."

Ron shrugged. "I wasn't told to hand her over to you; on the contrary, I was told to place her in our cells."

Cate was beginning to feel like a toy held between two very large dogs.

"Is there a problem here?" asked a rough, gravelly voice from behind.

Cate tried to turn to look, but Ron held her tightly. His jaw was tense, but he didn't look scared, or angry; just determined. "No, sir. No problem."

A squat man with thin lips and arms like a gorilla stomped up the corridor. Cate felt her eyes widen as she recognized him- Gawain Robards, the head of the Aurors. He had held the position for the last seven years, something that had surprised a lot of people. He wasn't known for his tact, after all, but was said to be the best dueler the department had seen since Mad-Eye Moody.

Robards was followed by Harry, who looked grim. He stared down at Vivienne Winslow, who gave him a small smile. "What do you want, Vivienne?"

She stared up at him, not at all intimidated. "I would like to take this unregistered werewolf to the cells in my Department, Gawain. I am unsure as to the problem. Mr. Weasley seems to think that you have jurisdiction in this matter."

Robards looked at Ron with a glare and said, "Weasley?"

Before Ron could say a word, Demetria Brooke thrust herself forward with a grim look. "Mr. Robards, I believe I know what the conflict is."

Her superior's expression tightened slightly, but Cate thought Robards didn't notice. "Yes, Miss…"

"Demetria Brooke, sir," she said is a crisp tone. "Miss Moon has been living with Mr. Weasley's brother for the past several weeks. I believe he and Mr. Potter, as the husband of another Weasley, have a conflict of interest."

There were two gasps, followed by garbled and overriding explanations from both Harry and Ron; Ron, in particular, looking like he wanted nothing more than to knock the smirk off of Demetria's face.

Robards held up a meaty hand, silencing them. "Miss Brooke," he began, and she straightened herself, looking like a cat with its fur being stroked. "There is a time and a place for accusations of that magnitude. If you knew this before the interview, you should have informed your superiors and followed the proper channels. Miss Moon is wanted for questioning by the Aurors, and so she will stay in our cells. If you have a problem," he said, this time looking directly at Vivienne Winslow, "Take it up with my Department Head. Until then, you and your escorts may leave my division."

Vivienne gave him a look that spoke volumes, but apparently only to Robards, who shrugged dismissively, spun on his heels and stalked back into his office. Ron, backed by Harry, watched as Vivienne gathered her entourage, including a seething Demetria, and left the Auror division. It wasn't until a minute after they were gone that Ron grabbed her arm again and began to march her downstairs. This time, Harry followed.

Cate waited until they were in an empty elevator- apparently, one that was only authorized for use by Aurors and detainees- before she spoke up. "Thank you for not letting them take me. I'm sorry that you got in trouble."

Ron barked a laugh. "We're not in trouble."

Cate glanced up at both of them, confused. "But, I thought…"

Harry shook his head. "We told Robards of our association with you when he sent us to collect you."

Ron grinned. "We're also the ones that reported the problem…"

"But that's neither here nor there," Harry interrupted firmly. "He knew and put it in his initial report, so it doesn't look like favoritism."

Ron grunted. "He also really doesn't like Vivienne Winslow."

Harry nodded, reluctantly it seemed. "No, and I can see why, but that doesn't excuse her behavior. She knew we had jurisdiction. I wouldn't be surprised if that Brooke woman got a reprimand, though. It looked like she hadn't told Vivienne about our relationship with you, Cate."

Cate was surprised to learn that she even had a relationship with them, and said so. "I'm not even really dating George," she added. "I'm just…"

Ron smirked. "Living with my brother until your apartment has been de-cursed. Not like you don't have anywhere else to go."

Cate frowned. "What do you know about it?"

Harry stopped them before it could go any further, and said, "I'm sure we have no opinion _as Aurors_, Cate, which is the only opinion we should have right now, Ron."

Ron nodded, and they all jumped as the elevator lurched to a halt. Ron pushed Cate ahead of him, down a long gray corridor with doors on either side, each numbered. They stopped in front of door twenty-four, and Harry tapped it with his wand. The door creaked open, revealing a tiny stone room with a cot in one corner and a toilet and sink in the other. A set of robes were folded on the cot, the number six-oh-one in neat numbers on the shoulder. Harry and Ron both blushed, but it was Ron who spoke first.

"Could you, uh…could you disrobe, please, and get into those?" He pointed at the gray jail robes, ears bright crimson.

Cate found herself blushing as well, which was ridiculous, because they were Aurors, and she was going to be in jail. "Could you, um, turn around, at least?"

Harry and Ron both looked at each other before spinning on their heels and facing the blank gray wall. Cate disrobed quickly and slipped the jail robes over her head, folding George's clothing into a neat pile. "Here," she said, handing it to a still blushing Ron.

Harry seemed to recover quickly. "You'll be down here for a couple of days, I think, while everything is being settled. You can have visitors, but they'll be closely monitored. Is there anyone you want me to tell of your whereabouts?"

Cate thought for a moment. "George, for one. I don't want him to do anything stupid. My grandmother, Elspeth; she can tell my family for me. My boss, Madame Pine. Oh, and my brother, Nathan. He's out of the country on business, and he doesn't ever listen when my grandmother firecalls; she wouldn't write this in a letter." She turned away, before muttering, "Thanks," under her breath.

The door closed behind her.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. Cate sat bolt upright from a deep sleep, one where she was chased endlessly around a cave by an unknown assailant. She stood quickly, straightening her hair as best she could.

The door opened, and she backed against the wall, watching as an Auror, one she thought she recognized, walked in. "You have a visitor," he said, motioning her forward, wand held casually in one hand.

Cate felt her heart pick up, and moved quickly until the Auror called for her to slow down. He led her into a long room filled with shower stalls, and pointed at one. A stream of hot water shot out of the showerhead, and he motioned her forward, turning so that she was in his peripheral vision.

She blushed hotly, but didn't say anything as she stripped quickly and flung herself behind the shower curtain. It had been days since she had had a hot shower. At least, she thought it had been. Since her cell had neither clock nor window, she had a difficult time keeping track. It felt like it had been four or five days; she thought that it was probably half that.

When she was finished, the Auror, without turning, handed her a towel. She quickly dried, and handed it back; he replaced it with a fresh set of jail robes and a tie for her hair. She was barefoot; apparently, shoes were dangerous when you were trapped in a tiny room.

The Auror, who hadn't spoken since he had opened her cell, led her to a door. He tapped it, and it opened into another long gray corridor. Every door had to be tapped with a wand, it appeared, and she had the feeling that if it weren't the correct wand, or the correct number of taps, something very bad would happen to the person doing the tapping.

They walked down several more corridors before coming to a door with a window in it and no number. He tapped it again, and this time motioned for her to go first. She did, a little hesitantly, seeing a metal table and a few chairs in the room. He pulled out one of the chairs, motioned for her to sit, and tapped it with his wand. Then he waited behind her chair, arms crossed, wand in one hand.

The was a knock at the other door, and her Auror called out, "Ready."

The door opened, and she sat straighter, expecting her grandmother, perhaps with her father in tow, or maybe her brother. There was a chance, very slight, that it was her sister with her fiancé, but she doubted that Isabelle would subject herself to the humiliation. Her Auror put a hand on her shoulder; she hadn't even realized that she was rising.

And then George walked in, alone.

She felt a surge of disappointment, and then anger at being disappointed. They weren't dating; he had let her live with him for a few weeks during a tough time; that was all. But he had been good to her, and he couldn't help that he wasn't family.

She noticed that he had a glare on his face that he cleared away as soon as he saw her. Then he saw the Auror standing behind her. She thought he might get angry again, as he had the last time Aurors had been near her, but his face lit up.

"Neville?"

Her Auror grinned back. "Hey, George. Long time, no see."

George held out a hand, and Neville shook it with the one not holding a wand. He never really took his eyes off of her. She stared at the two of them as they chatted about inconsequential things.

Neville. That must be Neville Longbottom. She had heard, in the gossip pages, that he had joined the Aurors, who had been impressed by his antics during that year You-Know-Who had controlled Hogwarts. She herself had never been brave enough, but Leo…

The boys patted each other on the back and George sat down, waiting until Neville had left the room.

She sat there, staring at him for what felt like forever, before he finally broke the silence. "How are you?"

She glanced down at her hands. "Could be better, I suppose."

There was another awkward silence before George stood up, made his way around the table, and flung his arms around her. She stiffened for a second before melting in his arms and sobbing. He held her as she cried, and when she was done, pulled the chair around the table and sat next to her, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

"Better?" he asked, his fingers tracing circles on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath. "Actually, yes. Thank you." She leaned closer. "I don't want you to think that I'm not grateful that you're here, because I really, really am, but I thought you might be my parents, or at least my brother."

George straightened, and she could feel the tension in his body. Looking up at his face, she frowned. "What?"

He sighed. "I talked to your family, as soon as I knew what was going on. Hell, even Harry and Ron talked to them." He took a deep, shaky breath. "They're not coming. They won't visit you in jail, and I think your grandmother even forbade them from coming to the trial. Something about family honor."

Cate sat up straight, eyes wide. "What?"

George looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together, before meeting her eyes. "I tried, Cate, I really did. I think your brother would have broken the rules for you if he had been there, but your father sent him on another business meeting, to Australia, I think, before it hit the news. Your dad wanted to visit, see how you were, but your mother and grandmother stood firm. I don't even think your cousins were told. I begged them to come and see you. That's why I haven't come sooner; I thought it would be rude to see you before them."

Cate turned away. "She actually forbade them to come?" she asked in a whisper.

George nodded. "I'm sorry, Cate. I wish I had better news."

She shrugged, standing and facing the wall. "That's fine. I was hoping… no, that's alright."

George stood up and walked over to her, putting his arms around her waist. "I haven't known you very long, Cate, but I can tell when you're upset. If you need anything…"

She shook her head, refusing to be drawn in to his warmth. "No. I'm fine."

He opened his mouth, and closed it again. "I am sorry."

She felt her body respond, and forced the warmth and happiness away. "I know. It's not your fault."

* * *

The rest of the visit was awkward, with sentences short and jerky, and neither really saying anything else. She found out that she had been in jail for three days, and that each day the Daily Prophet released some part of her story.

It was all over the news, now, her being a werewolf. Her family was shamed, her friends, the very few who had stuck by her, would surely desert her, and George…when his family knew what she was, they would demand that he leave her, and find a nice girl who didn't have so much baggage. It wouldn't be hard for him; they hadn't actually been properly dating, after all, so his image would be untarnished. He might even come out ahead, since the Daily Prophet was painting him as a victim of her wiles. It would have been easier to deal with, if her family had come.

If it hadn't been so serious, she would have laughed.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	12. Chapter 12

**Fury **

**Chapter Twelve**

**Walking on Broken Glass**

After George left, Neville escorted her back to her cell. Another day or two passed, and she was brought out to meet the woman who would be her representative at the preliminary trial.

Miss Adela Sinclair was a young woman, pretty in a certain light, and completely sure of herself. She appeared to be George's age, or perhaps a little older, with straight white-blond hair that was kept carefully arranged at all times, very pale skin, and dark eyes that were surprising given her coloration.

She had a clipped way of speaking, and dismissed all of Cate's concerns with a wave of a hand and a glance at her paperwork.

"You will have absolutely nothing to worry about, Miss Moon. There is no proof that you are, in fact, the murderer, and a great deal of proof that you were the victim of werewolf tampering. I specialize in cases such as these. Now, when you are in front of the Wizengamot…"

Cate let the words wash over her, not really paying attention. She would deal with this meeting, and this woman, and go back to her cell, and no one would visit, and the day would begin again, and again, until the trial.

She interrupted Adela, as she had asked to be called, perhaps to gain Cate's trust. "When is the trial?"

Adela looked briefly annoyed at being interrupted, but answered the question. "You are scheduled to appear before the Wizengamot in four day's time. This is a preliminary trial, and will set the conditions of the actual trial, as well as determine if there is enough proof of criminal activity to warrant the court's attention. It is standard procedure, since the war."

Cate nodded, and went back to her daydreams.

* * *

The next four days passed in a blur. George stopped by once, to kiss her on the cheek and say that he had been unsuccessful in convincing her parents to come. None of her other friends- not that she had many- or family came, and the visit from George had been brief, so she spent much of the time alone, brooding.

They weren't allowed to send letters from the jail, but they were allowed to write. She had gotten several pieces of parchment and a quill, and attempted to write to her family. Every attempt ended with the quill punched through the paper and crumpled into a tiny ball, if it hadn't been shredded.

She had been betrayed.

This thought stayed with her through those four days. It had been something Adela said, about the Wolfsbane being tampered with and certain wards and fencing of the enclosure having been destroyed. It had to have been someone who knew her; the others in the compound had been kept confined, and their potions had worked.

Adela had also brought up the recent attacks to her apartment, and her cat. Cate had told her the story, and Adela had produced the Auror's report, something Harry had told her about but not shown her. Her apartment's security had been temporarily disabled, something that could only have been done with a sequence of spells that amounted to a code; only a very few people, all of them family, knew the code.

The bitterness built over the next few days. She could hear the Aurors talking, and sometimes laughing, as they walked down the hallway; she heard her name often enough to know it was about her. The only ones in the entire world who seemed to care what happened to her now were George, Ron, and Harry, and she wasn't sure about the last two.

They had no reason to help her, and yet…something said they were genuine. George especially should hate her now, but he had been her only visitor, only real friend, since this whole mess had started. She didn't want to think of the implications; Merlin's beard, they had only really known each other for a little over a month!

One crumpled parchment had been a letter to him, telling him to stay away, that she wasn't good for him, that he deserved so much more than her. That had taken an age to write, because she didn't really believe it herself, and then, after it was finished, signed, and sealed, it had taken another age to toss it in the corner with the other letters. She didn't want to lose him.

It was a hard thing to admit, even to herself, but she _liked_ being liked. He had been nice to her without an expectations, and then, even after all of this, he was still nice. His family was wonderful; the brothers fun, the sisters friendly, and even his parents had been good to her. It was as unlike her own family as possible, though her cousins were certainly as playful.

Bitterness rose, swallowing her whole, and the only bright light in the entire affair was George.

* * *

She awoke the morning of the trial with back pain and bitter feelings. The cot they had given her was increasingly uncomfortable, but, the bitter, dark part of her said, it could be the last time she slept on it. They could send her to a more secure facility.

The Aurors gave her clean clothes, a shower, and escorted her to a waiting room, where Adela waited impatiently, tapping her feet in expensive shoes and rubbing the trim on her beautiful dark green robe. She looked stunning, and Cate felt like less than nothing next to her. As soon as the Aurors left, Adela regained her composure, and smiled at Cate in a tight, formal way.

"Do _not_ worry about today, Miss Moon. I have everything under control. Thank Merlin they let you clean up first." The last was said under her breath, and she appeared embarrassed about saying it out loud. "Sorry."

Cate shrugged. "No worries." She couldn't even muster up the energy to care about the insult.

They had been waiting for nearly half an hour, which Cate took to be unusual, from Adela's clipped pacing and agitated paper shuffling.

Cate sat against a wall, on a protruding bench. She had been confident in Adela's abilities before, but now… "Are you alright?"

Adela jumped. "What? Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry. I've got everything under control."

Cate smiled grimly. "I see."

They both went back to their introspections, Cate staring at the grainy stone floor, Adela pacing in her high-heeled, unnecessarily expensive shoes.

* * *

It was another twenty minutes before a tall, bulky man wearing the plum-colored robes of the Wizengamot opened the heavy doors. He motioned her forward, and Adela launched herself through the doors, her client following at a slightly more leisurely pace.

The courtroom was much smaller than she had expected, with only a few seats behind a long, tall bench, another seat on a lower dais with a writing desk, and seating for a small audience. She was motioned to a chair with golden chains; a, narrow table stood next to it, with a chair that Adela took, motioning Cate towards the chair with chains. Another table sat on the other side, stacked with papers.

There were five members of the Wizengamot seated at the bench, four men and a woman, as well as another purple-robed clerk seated at the lower desk, quill and wand in hand. The four men were all severe looking, though they ranged in age from relatively young- her father's age- to much older, older even than her grandmother. The woman was middle-aged, Indian, with steel-gray hair and dark eyes and a slight tension around her full mouth. She sat in the center of the men and looked supremely annoyed. The clerk was a nondescript woman with mousy hair and downcast eyes, who somehow made the brilliantly purple robes look drab.

The seating behind Cate was packed with people. She could make out George's bright red hair; he sat about halfway back. There were several people holding quills and notepads who must have been reporters, and others wearing anti-werewolf clothing. She thought she saw Demetria Brooke, and possibly Vivienne Winslow, but wasn't sure. She knew for a fact that her family wasn't there; there was a reserved space, clearly labeled, and it was empty.

It felt like a circus. Cate thought she could understand the Wizengamot woman's annoyance.

Cate sat tentatively in the chair, but the chains didn't move. Sighing, she stared at her fingernails, wanting more than anything for this to be over with.

The woman spoke. "Order, please. This tribunal is to determine if a trial in the matter of Catherine Elizabeth Moon is in order. For the record, the participating members of the Wizengamot are David Agamaite, Liam Cameron, Coronus Maxwell, and Balthazar Greaves, under Head of Criminal Inquiry, Madame Kali Suresh, which is myself. Clerk is Miss Leona Anderson."

Adela stood up, brushing imaginary dust off of her robes. "Representing the interests of Catherine Moon, Adela Sinclair."

The doors were thrust open, and an older man, sporting wild salt-and-pepper hair that went in every direction and slightly frayed red robes, rushed into the room, a large stack of files in his arms. "Representing the interests of the Ministry of Magic, Archimedes Saunders!" The words came out in a rush as he nearly toppled the pile of papers waiting at his desk.

Madame Suresh looked peeved. "Mr. Saunders, you are late."

He looked up at her apologetically. "I apologize, Madame Head. Certain results have only just arrived."

Adela looked at her notes with dismay, and Cate felt her heart sink. If Adela didn't know what was going on, she had no chance.

Under the new Ministry regime, after the War, a lot of injustices had been corrected, mostly by the students who had been at Hogwarts for the past few years and had seen, first-hand, what the Ministry was doing to the populace at large, but also to individuals, namely one Harry Potter. Harry himself hadn't openly supported or opposed anything, but somehow the measures that he quietly championed succeeded, and the ones he quietly disliked wasn't passed. This included the system of justice in the Wizarding World, something that had been medieval in structure, with no real protection for innocents. Cate had been inclined to like it, but there were still some problems, things that, according to Hermione Granger, who worked in the Law Offices of the Ministry, Muggles had done for decades, if not centuries.

Cate was experiencing, first hand, some of the good of those changes, and some of the bad.

Madame Suresh listed the crimes that she had been accused of- a rather impressive list, as a matter of fact, even if most were relatively minor. The list was on a piece of parchment, and her voice grew darker with every word. "Charges are as follows: being an unregistered werewolf, refusing to register as a werewolf, bribing a Ministry official, refusal to submit to a Ministry review of circumstances, tampering with Wolfsbane Potion, tampering with a Werewolf Restriction Device, mutilating a dead body, failure to report a crime, resisting arrest, and the murder of Ares Edward Pagliano."

There were several gasps as she read the last charge. She looked up, eyebrows drawn low, and hissed, "Silence, please." She then set the parchment in front of her, crossed her arms, and stared down at Cate. "Mr. Saunders, present your evidence."

Saunders may have looked flyaway and unprepared, but he listed evidence off of his papers without having to look at them, stressing the important details, and giving witness names as if he had memorized the case. He was firm, concise, and no-nonsense; in fact, if he hadn't been proving that Cate had committed the crimes, she would have been very impressed.

Adela had turned green as Madame Suresh read the list, steadily changing to gray as Saunders began, and was fully white when he finished. Cate's confidence in her had declined as her color had gone, and she was now slouched in her chair, face set in an expression of shock.

Madame Suresh nodded when he finished, and the annoyed look had disappeared from her face. She turned to Adela, who visibly blanched. She stood, trying to control the shaking in her knees. Cate head spun; where was the young, confident woman of this morning?

Adela spoke slowly, haltingly, slowly gaining speed and confidence as she outlined how many, if not all, of the charges were circumstantial. She skirted around the issue of the non-registration; after all, it was Cate's duty to register, and she had clearly failed to do so. Adela spoke of several witnesses, most of them not family, who said that Cate was incapable of several of the crimes, even given her change. She brought doubt into the mind as she spoke of the tainted Wolfsbane and a set up; after all, several other registered werewolves had taken the potion, had watched her do it, and claimed no ill effects themselves, nor had they seen evidence that she had touched the potion before drinking it. No one had proof that she had done anything seriously wrong.

Cate felt her confidence in Adela growing as the young woman grew firmer in her statements, occasionally referencing a piece of paper or a file, but never having any doubt that she knew what she was doing.

By the time Adela had concluded, she was grinning and Cate was no longer white; in fact, she thought she might even had difficulty hiding a relieved grin herself. Madame Suresh, on the other hand, looked no more or less annoyed, and the other four judges were no less sober. It put a pall over Cate's mood, until she looked back at George.

He was smiling encouragingly, and waved a little at her. She waved back slightly as the five judges deliberated, and cameras flashed.

Madame Suresh spun in her chair, looking into the crowd with stern dark eyes. "We will recess until further notice. Miss Sinclair, Mr. Saunders, please join us in the recessing chamber. Miss Moon will remain seated."

There was a disturbance at the back of the room. Cate wasn't the only one to turn and look, but because she had to remain seated, she couldn't see much other than the back of people's heads. The crowd parted, and she gasped, unsure if it was in relief or shock.

Her grandmother, who hadn't actually left the Moon estate in fifteen years, walked up the aisle between rows in full dress robes, her steely hair neatly tied back in a bun. Her robes were purple and blue, with intricate designs around the hems. Cate had seen it a few times before, at funerals and weddings; it was the formal robe of the Head of the Family, in capital letters. Elspeth Moon looked fantastically in charge, from the top of her head to her shoes; even her cane, a necessary accessory, fit image. She stared straight ahead, ignoring her granddaughter and the stunned crowd.

Cate's father stood to his mother's right, just slightly behind her and looking out of breath. Hierophant's own hair, black and graying, was brushed back and neat, something she had never seen before. His robes nearly matched his mothers, with less embroidery and somehow more militant. He glanced at Cate quickly before fixing his eyes on the back of his mother's head.

On Elspeth's other side stood Cate's mother, looking cold and collected and as if she did not want to be there, and couldn't understand why anyone would want her there. She was tall and stately in her own robes of dark gray, her blond hair hanging loose to her waist, and her eyes cold and gleaming. Serenity spared a look for her daughter, and another for Madame Suresh, before gazing at a point somewhere beyond the five judges.

Elspeth spoke, calmly and slowly. "Madame Suresh, if I might have a word with you, please."

Madame Suresh looked surprised. "Madame Moon, I am in the middle of a hearing."

Elspeth's chin raised slightly. "This concerns the charges against my granddaughter. In private?"

Madame Suresh nodded, and motioned to a side door. Elspeth, Hiero, and Serenity all left through the door, followed by Madame Suresh and the other four judges. And then chaos filled the courtroom. A minute later, the door opened, and Coronus Maxwell stuck his head out. "Miss Sinclair, Mr. Saunders, please join us." It was said in a monotone, and the courtroom froze again.

Cate stayed rooted to the chair as the press and crowd talked amongst themselves. She didn't know what she was feeling: anger, despair, joy; any one of them fit. She didn't move for several minutes, until George pushed his way through and crouched on the ground next to her, grabbing her hand.

"Hey." His voice was low, and it sent a shiver up her back.

"They didn't visit, they say nothing to me, and now they act like they don't care." Cate heard the edge of hysteria in her voice and hated herself for it.

George squeezed her hand. "They do care; if they didn't, they wouldn't be here, would they?"

Cate sniffed. "They only care about the family name. There's very little they can do to salvage it, I expect."

George pulled her out of the chair and, ignoring the cameras and quills of the press, pulled her into a tight embrace. "Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine. I'm sure of it."

Cate inhaled, trying to believe him. "Promise?"

George nodded. "Absolutely. You'll go home with me, we'll have dinner, and then we'll go to bed, and tomorrow will be a better day. There's nothing to prove; you didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm not sure of that," Cate whispered into his chest.

He gripped tighter. "I am."

The door opened to the chamber, and first Adela and Mr. Saunders, followed by Cate's parents and grandmother, exited the room. The door closed behind them. Adela walked quickly over to Cate, frowning slightly as George refused to leave her side. "Your grandmother has offered a deal. They are deliberating on it as we speak."

Elspeth, Hiero, and Serenity stood primly along the wall, her grandmother leaning heavily on her cane. The press snapped pictures, and Mr. Saunders looked annoyed. Everyone waited.

The door opened again, and the judges trudged out, taking their seats. Liam Cameron looked angry, but accepting; David Agamaite looked extremely pleased. The other judges were much harder to read. Madame Suresh looked at George with one dark eye, saying, "Everyone be seated." Her voice was steel.

George kissed her quickly on the forehead and regained his seat. Cameras had snapped photos at every opportunity.

Madame Suresh looked firm. "It is the decision of this court that the charges of tampering with a Werewolf Restriction Device, mutilating a dead body, failure to report a crime, and murder are to be dropped, due to insufficient evidence against Miss Moon. The charge of bribing a Ministry official is also to be dropped, as there is clear evidence that Miss Moon herself did not commit this crime, and was indeed unaware of it. For the crime of resisting arrest, there is clear evidence that not only did Miss Moon not resist arrest, but prevented another individual from doing so on her behalf. On the charges of being an unregistered werewolf, refusing to register as a werewolf, refusal to submit to a Ministry review of circumstances, it has been brought to my attention that Miss Moon was a minor at the time of her biting, and that the case happened during the Second War, leaving Miss Moon without the option of submitting herself for registration. It was the duty of the parents or the school to inform the Ministry, and as neither happened, there will be an inquiry into their participation in this event. It is the decision of this court that these charges be dropped against Miss Moon, and that she is to go free, into the custody of her family, until such time that a review be completed of her circumstances. Court adjourned."

There was an uproar, and George raced to the front to sweep her up into a hug, spinning her around and laughing. Cate kissed him soundly, beyond pleased, and Adela looked relaxed and happy for the first time that day. The five judges left the room, and, after more pictures, the press followed them, hoping to get quotes or statements.

George set Cate on the ground, kissing her again, and Cate reached out and grabbed Adela into a hug, thanking her profusely. They were interrupted by Elspeth, who looked stern and forbidding.

"Come along, Catherine. We're going home."

Cate looked at her grandmother, confused. "What? I'm going home with George."

Elspeth nearly grimaced. "Did you not hear the judge's order? You are in our custody. As such, you will remain at Moon Manor until the inquiry is finished."

Cate crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm going with George," she said stubbornly, taking a step back.

Serenity sniffed and stalked out of the room, leaving her husband, mother-in-law, and daughter standing there, facing each other down.

Adela backed away. "Well, lovely to work with you, Miss Moon." And then she practically ran away.

George stayed strong. "She's been in jail. Let her come home with me, get cleaned up, and she'll see you tomorrow."

Elspeth turned her glare on him. "Young man, you are lucky if I let you see her at all. She will be returning with us, and that's final."

Cate looked at her father helplessly. He reached forward, pulled her towards him, and whispered in her ear for a moment. George watched the blood drain from her face, and then she turned, shakily, to him.

"George, I…"

He snapped his teeth together. "You're going with them," he said flatly.

She raised her chin, looking defiant and terrified. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "No. I am. Goodbye, Cate," he said, and stalked out of the room, leaving her staring after him with tears in her eyes.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	13. Chapter 13

**Fury**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Glass Houses**

It was the week from hell.

Of course, nothing was as bad as when she had lost her brother, or when her mother had learned that her twin sister's entire family had been murdered. Nothing compared to the news that her cousin Matthew, Ben and Cornelia's older brother, had died in the weeks following the Final Battle, from wounds received, or that her uncle Daniel, a Muggle married to her Aunt Temmie, had died of a disease called cancer.

But this week was nearly as bad.

She spent that first night out of jail at the Manor, mostly because her grandmother refused to let her leave, and also because she had no place else to go. George hated her, with good reason; something to add to the week. The next day was spent hiding as first one aunt, then another, and then possibly an uncle or her grandmother, tracked her down to detail her deficiencies and explain why she was being kept in the house, as if Cate didn't already know. Her brother Nathan was nowhere to be seen, and her grandmother told her that he had left the night she was arrested and hadn't been heard from since. He had said, as he was leaving, that he wouldn't come back until Cate was home and safe; her grandmother thought it was an excuse to find some hapless girl and, as she put it, 'shack up'.

After three days of berating and belittling, Cate finally left, sneaking out through the front door and Apparating to her apartment. The building was quiet, the street busy with foot traffic, this near the center of London. She opened the front door with her key and proceeded up the stairs to the second floor. Her door was fourth on the left, and she sighed as she jammed the key in the lock and shoved the door open; it had always stuck.

The room was cleaner than she had left it. There were a few things missing, things that the teams sent to sweep the rooms had been unable to de-curse. She closed and locked the door behind her, feeling sobs beginning to rack her chest. She threw her cloak on the back of a chair and raced through the kitchen, through the living area with its small couch and old radio, and into her bedroom, where her clothes were not where she had left them, in piles on the floor, but put away in the closet. The Aurors sent to scrub her apartment must have been very neat.

She stripped off the staid, boring clothes that she kept at the manor and pulled on a pair of Muggle jeans and a loose, bright red sweater over an orange tank top. Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought, just for a moment, what it would be like to hide away in the Muggle world and be just Cate Moon, normal person.

There was a knock at her door. Cate swept her hair up into a ponytail and straightened herself up before calling out thoughtlessly, "Who is it?"

The voice on the other side was muffled. "It's Mrs. Barker, your landlady."

Cate was surprised. "Just a minute." She glanced around the apartment, making sure everything was neat; Mrs. Barker was famous for her spotless houses and apartments, and almost as well known for her temper.

Cate wrenched the door open and smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Barker. Come in, come in." She stepped aside and let the woman through.

Mrs. Barker had silver curls covering her head, honey-brown eyes, and a narrow mouth set in a narrow, birdlike face. She wore robes, as usual, in plain brown with vines and flowers around the collar. Her glasses were wide brown frames that made her look like an owl, and her hands were knarled and stained with potion ingredients. She took a chair at Cate's table, sniffing at the cloak flung over the back of another chair, and sat primly, waiting.

Cate gulped. "Can I get you some tea, Mrs. Barker?"

The older woman glanced at her. "Yes, if you have peppermint. I adore peppermint tea."

Something Cate hadn't known about her landlady. "I'll see what I can do."

Cate scrambled around her kitchen, ripping through the cupboards in search of peppermint tea, and discovered, unsurprisingly, that she didn't have any. She liked it, but it certainly wasn't her favorite, and she hadn't bought any food for her apartment in weeks.

She grinned ruefully at her landlady. "I'm sorry, I appear to be out of it. Can I get you anything else?"

Mrs. Barker shook her head. "No, thank you. We need to have a talk, Miss Moon."

Cate smiled. "Call me Cate, please; everyone else does."

Mrs. Barker's lips thinned. "It has been brought to my attention by several of the other tenants that you are not what you appeared to be on your application."

Cate froze. "What do you mean?"

Mrs. Barker raised a single eyebrow, reminding Cate unpleasantly of her grandmother. "You forgot to mention that you were a werewolf. Under the new laws, I am able to evict you for this alone. I would never do that."

Cate stared, stunned. Mrs. Barker continued. "However, the recent attack on your apartment, the influx of Aurors at all hours, and the fact that you had a young man here without my consent is inexcusable. You have endangered the tenants of this property long enough. I would like you out of the apartment by the end of the month. That is precisely two weeks from now. On the first of the year you must be vacated. The wards on the building will change, and the so will the locks."

Mrs. Barker stood, leaving Cate in stunned disbelief. "I'll see myself out."

Cate watched her close the door, saw the ward flash as it sealed, and dropped her head in her hands.

* * *

She slept through her alarm the next day, waking at nearly noon. Her clothing was shoved into conjured boxes, her kitchen and living room a disaster. She showered quickly, threw on her work robes, and hurtled down the stairs, missing one and taking the rest two at a time. She raced through London towards the Leaky Cauldron, her mind so frantic she forgot to Apparate. When she finally arrived in Diagon Alley, she slowed slightly, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze and bumping into those doing their Christmas shopping. She flung herself through the door of the apothecary, ran into the back room, and took a moment to compose herself.

It took a few seconds to realize that she wasn't alone. Madame Pine was staring at her, arms crossed over her chest and face set in a scowl. A copy of the Daily Prophet lay on the table, open to the page with her picture and a headline that read: "Werewolf Uses Family Influence to Flee Criminal Charges". Cate flushed angrily and opened her mouth, but Madame Pine beat her to it.

"You are fired."

She snapped her jaw closed. "I beg your pardon?" Somehow, her voice had risen at least two octaves.

Madame Pine listed her supposed offences off on her fingers. "Consistently late for work, consistently taking overly long breaks, consistently disrespectful, disappeared without word for almost two weeks, and consistently dressed inappropriately. Your letter of termination will be owled to you. Turn in your key and robes."

She held out a hand, and Cate shucked off the robes and handed over the tiny silver key in shock. "But…"

Madame Pine's face never changed. "You may go. Quietly. I have customers."

Cate walked out, sure that the shock must be evident on her face. She drew her wand as soon as she exited the Alley and Apparated to her apartment without thought. When she entered and saw the boxes, she collapsed in a heap.

Her life, as crappy as it was, was falling apart.

Cate lay around her apartment for four days before she finally got the energy to finish packing. Christmas was in a little under a week, and she so did not want to move back to the Manor just as her entire family- including those young enough to still go to Hogwarts- packed the place with their drama and _things_. And there was the glory of returning home in disgrace, with no where else to go, when you knew you weren't wanted.

She couldn't think of anything she'd like to do less.

Still, there were no real options for her. And once her grandmother found out about her losing her apartment and job- if she hadn't already- she would have to move back in anyway.

She called her elf to help her. Reesa glanced around the half-packed apartment, gave her a wounded look, and snapped her fingers. The clothing, dishes, and other things that she had neglected to pack flew around the room with precision, landing neatly folded or neatly stacked in their boxes. When everything was packed- it took minutes- the elf snapped her fingers again, and the boxes vanished.

"Where…" Cate began, but Reesa interrupted her.

"Miss's things are in Miss's rooms at the Manor. Miss can go home now, and Reesa will finish."

Cate stared at her blankly for a second before walking over to the fireplace to Floo home. As soon as her hand was out of the jar, it vanished, no doubt sent home by a diligent Reesa. She threw the powder in the fire, hesitated a second, and then cried out, "Moon Manor!"

There was the final, split second view of her former apartment before she was pulled away.

* * *

Her room would have been a disaster, if not for Reesa.

With the Manor full to the rafters of family and guests and friends, the House-Elves were working non-stop to feed, clothe, and clean the place, not to mention the decorations. Christmas was tomorrow, and the little creatures were going a mile a minute, all with beaming faces. Her room was not a priority, though Reesa often winced when she saw it, with boxes of things shoved against one wall to the ceiling, a tricky bit of magic holding them up and keeping them from being knocked over.

Cate was sick to death of her family. One cousin after another popped into her room, asking questions, giggling, or being pompous and rude, as her sister did on occasion. It certainly didn't help that nearly every single one of her cousins had a date, fiancé, or, in Nathan's case, a live-in guest. Charles, sixteen now, had brought his girlfriend and his best friend home. Even her littlest brother, Hercules, home from his third year at Hogwarts, had brought friends home.

The house was never quiet. There might have been one moment, days ago, when someone, somewhere, had left her alone, but that time had come and gone when her cousins, aunts, and uncles arrived. And tonight, there was to be the annual Moon Christmas Ball, a special event this year, since her grandmother had invited half the Wizarding World, in an attempt to smooth over Cate's recent disgrace.

Cate sat in the middle of her bed and sulked. At least, that's what Persie and Demi said; they were ready, their dates waiting outside. Cate was the only cousin tonight without a date, and she felt nothing, and certainly did not feel guilty about feeling nothing, and she wasn't sulking, no matter what anyone said.

All of the female cousins of any age were crammed into Cate's room, except for Isabelle. Why they had chosen her room was beyond her; of all of them, she probably had the least space, with the stacks of boxes and everything. All were determined to make themselves gorgeous, and all determined to make her smile and talk at the same time.

Persie had arrived first, dressed in glorious scarlet, with her dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders and panic in her eyes. "I can't get my hair right!" she cried, flopping onto Cate's bed. Persie's twin arrived next, also panicking. Demi wore elegant silver robes with tiny bells hidden along the hems that jingled as she walked.

"I'm going to go mad if you don't shut them up! I have no idea what I was thinking when I bought these! Cate, you're good with Silencing spells, right?"

One after another, her cousins jammed themselves in the room, talking loudly and over one another. Demi and Persie's little sister, Rhea, wanted help with the clasp of a necklace that neither of her sisters had given her permission to borrow. Rhea was in violent pink, something that clashed hideously with her borrowed makeup and jewelry, and didn't match the shoes she'd stolen from Cate's closet when she thought no one was looking. Vicki and Ellie were arguing over Ellie's date, a tall, gorgeous, and stupid man named Richard Merser. Vicki had wanted to wear yellow, a cheerful color, but Ellie had stolen the robes and was now refusing to give them back; Demi settled the argument by handing Vicki a set of cream and gold robes that didn't fit her anymore, and which were far prettier than the yellow ones.

Cornelia was next, hanging on Elin; both wore lovely purple robes, though Elin's were a shade darker, and neither had any jewelry to match. Carrie was holding on to Lydia, her soon-to-be stepdaughter, and trying to force her into a Christmas gown; Lydia spit on Carrie's dark red robes and screamed. Charity was trying to force herself into silky black robes that were a size too small. Soon, even the girlfriends, fiancés, and friends arrived, and the small room was elbow to elbow of screaming, crying, laughing, shouting girls, full of excitement.

One of the aunts tapped on the door, and as suddenly as it had begun, the room cleared, leaving Cate alone at the center of the aftermath of a storm. She slowly got up from the bed, threw on the gold robes she had sworn never to wear, and pushed her hair back from her face, deciding as she did to leave it loose. And no jewelry, either; the robes were splendid enough. There was nothing to do about the shadows under her eyes or the unmanageable random curls in her hair, and she couldn't make herself care.

Everyone had made a line behind her grandmother, starting with her parents. Everyone, even her littlest brother, had a partner. Everyone but her.

Elspeth opened the ball with a magnificent display of flowers erupting from her wand and floating down from the ceiling to land as silver snowflakes on the guests below, those who were not family, who laughed and applauded. And then the family paraded down the stairs in their opulent robes, one pair after another, until Cate, bringing up the rear, was firmly on the ballroom floor, trying to find a place to hide.

Elspeth planted herself in the throne-like chair at one end of the ballroom, and gestured for the orchestra to play. The music swelled around the room, and couples began to dance, starting with her parents. Her mother was, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman there, with her sheet of blond hair flying out behind her, and her opalescent robes inviting envy in every woman present. Her father looked tall and handsome in his own dark blue robes, and was smiling merrily; she hadn't seen him smile like that in a long time. Isabelle and Matthias soon joined them, Izzie looking like a younger version of her mother. Aunts and Uncles, cousins, brothers; soon everyone was dancing except the very old and the very young. And Cate.

She felt so alone, watching everyone dance. She shook herself out of it and tried to slip unnoticed into the next room, where the elves had set out a Christmas feast of nibbles and appetizers. She looked up just before she reached the door and saw her grandmother watching her, the expression on her face unreadable. Looking directly at the woman, Cate straightened and walked, proudly, into the next room. Damned if she was going to let her grandmother win this round.

She grabbed two of the little meat and cheese rolls, shoving them in her mouth, before heading towards the desert table. She grabbed for a little cookie, one with sprinkles, when another hand reached out and grabbed it ahead of her. She glanced up and glared at Nathan as he nibbled around the edges.

"You're not very sneaky, dearest sister." he mumbled between bites.

"Neither are you, big brother." she growled, snagging another cookie.

He shrugged. "Don't need to be. Grace is waiting for me. Said I had to have a few words with the family mope."

Cate glared. "Don't mince words, loving brother. Tell the truth now."

Nathan finished the cookie and brushed the crumbs off of his lapels. "Grandmother sent me. She seemed to think you might be unhappy."

Cate threw up her hands. "I wonder why! My life is falling apart! I have no job, nowhere to live, no privacy, and best of all, George hates me now!"

"I don't hate you."

* * *

The gardens were freezing, but Cate was willing to ignore that for the privacy. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing the stupid gold robe were thicker.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

George glanced at her before leading her to a bench, pulling out his wand, and warming the area. "Better?"

She nodded, and found herself leaning into him. He shuffled sideways, almost unconsciously. She waited, but he didn't speak.

"You didn't answer my question." Her voice was no longer cold, but simply curious.

George shrugged. "Your grandmother invited me. And Harry. And the rest of my family. But she made a point of inviting me. Even wrote a letter to me personally, saying that she was wrong. About what, I have no idea."

Cate stiffened. "You came because my grandmother wrote you a letter."

George didn't look at her. "Yeah. She was very convincing."

There was another long silence, broken by George. "About what you said, after the trial…"

Cate turned away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But…"

She spun and faced him. "Not another word. I mean it."

Neither spoke, until Cate felt the moment pass. "I missed you."

There was a pause before he said, "I missed you, too."

She moved closer to him on the bench, and this time he didn't move.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fury**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Cordially Invited **

Cate hadn't realized how much she missed George until he was her friend again- at least, they called themselves friends. Something had changed, yet again, and Cate didn't know where they stood in their relationship. Friends talked, friends hugged; sometimes, friends kissed, but it didn't mean anything. Friends didn't sleep together.

The ball, the annual fiasco that she was required to attend, had ended badly when her parents found her sitting with George in the garden. Her mother had forbidden her to see him again, telling her that only scarlet women did what Cate was doing, and her father had stood by and let it happen. George had stood up to them, arguing loudly enough that several people came into the garden to see what was going on, and others stood at the window and watched.

Cate found herself flushing while she watched George argue on her behalf. His hair, longer than he usually kept it and shaggy around the edges, got into his face, which was red from anger and cold. She could see the mangled remains of his ear when he gestured wildly.

Her mother was no better, but instead of turning red, she grew pale, her lips thinning and her long blond hair shaking as she jerked her hands in anger. Her father stood there, silent, looking at his feet.

Cate let them argue until she saw her grandmother standing at the window, then stepped between them, putting her hand on George's chest. "Enough."

Her mother's face twisted in a snarl. "You will not see him again, is that clear?"

Cate, her hand still on George's chest, turned to face her mother. "I will see whoever I damn well please, Mother, and you can't do anything about it. I'm not living here by choice, and I wouldn't. Not anymore."

Her mother took a step back in shock. "Are you disobeying me?" she hissed.

Cate straightened her back and glared at her mother. "You do not control my life, Mother."

George took her hand in his, and held it tightly. "You don't have to stay here, Cate."

She took another look at her mother, lips tight and face white, one at her father, who refused to look her in the eyes, and a final glance at her grandmother, who stood still and serene among the gossiping guests.

Before she could speak, her father interrupted. "She does. By order of the Wizengamot."

Cate's face was empty of emotion. "I only have to sleep here, Father. I don't have to live here. I'll see you in the morning."

She took a step back, into George's arms, and they Apparated away.

* * *

Since that horrible night three months ago, Cate spent only part of the night with her parents, just long enough to satisfy the court that she lived there, but the rest of the time was spent either with George or, when he was working, with one or two of the people that still called her friend.

She also spent the time looking for a job, but found, thanks to the newspapers and her former boss, that no one would hire her. They made it clear that it wasn't because she was a werewolf; that would be discrimination, after all. She just didn't have the necessary qualifications.

Even when her friend, Maggie, a girl she had gone to school with and one of the few that she still talked to, got her an interview at her own job, she was turned down. Every interview took something out of her, and she would go back to George's apartment and crash next to him on his couch, disheartened. She couldn't even get a job in the Centaur Liaison Office, and everyone knew what a joke that was.

This last one was the final straw.

She had gone to a shop in Hogsmeade, a place that sold used clothing, and had been turned down for being "over-qualified". The interviewer had been polite but brusque, and had told her that no one would hire her in Wizarding circles; they would lose customers for hiring a murderer.

She Apparated back to George's building and collapsed into one of the large, overstuffed armchairs that sat on either side of the couch. George was down in the shop, and would be until closing, so she had nearly four hours alone. Four hours.

It might as well have been a lifetime.

She had no job, few friends, and almost zero options. She hated this feeling of uselessness, but unless she could turn back time- unlikely, since she would never be allowed a Time Turner, ever, even if she could get near someone who had one- she would just have to keep looking.

She sank a little further into the chair. Perhaps she could get a job in the Muggle world. Something simple, like being a shop girl, that didn't really take any qualifications, and where she wouldn't have to stay late at night. She wouldn't need to explain her sudden disappearances on the night of the full moon; no one would be suspicious.

As she thought of what jobs she might apply for- given that she had little experience with anything in the Muggle world, and her grandmother would most certainly have a fit- she felt her eyes slowly closing under their own volition. Sinking further into the chair, she began to doze, her light snores filling the empty apartment.

* * *

Cate woke with a start, blinking owlishly in the dim light. There were sounds, as of pots and pans banging together, and muffled cursing, coming from the kitchen; she thought she recognized George's voice. She was covered in a blanket that she didn't recall pulling over herself, and there was a low fire in the fireplace. She snuggled deeper into the chair but didn't close her eyes, content to listen.

George cursed again, and there was a hissing sound. She struggled to sit up, pushing the blanket onto the floor and trying to wake up. It was a losing battle. She stepped on a corner of the blanket as she stood, and the heavy wool slid across the wooden floor, taking her with it. She crashed into a side table with a large, garish lamp, and shrieked as the lamp bit her hand before smashing to the floor.

George ran into the room, wand drawn, a kettle in his other hand and hair wild. "What?"

Cate, from her position under the table, began to giggle. George stared at her, eyes wild and blinking, before he realized the ridiculousness of the situation. He spun on his heel, disappearing into the kitchen. She could hear great gasps of laughter as she tried to remove the lamp from her hand and get out from under the table without doing anymore damage. A hand reached down to help her.

She looked up, thinking that it was George, and froze. It wasn't.

It was her brother, Nathan.

"What are you doing here?"

He grinned down at her, very tan, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "George invited me."

She brushed off bits of lamp and dust and winced as she pulled a lamp tooth out of her wrist. She shook herself and threw her arms around her brother.

"I've missed you!"

Nathan had left immediately after the ball, taking his girlfriend, Grace Cole, with him, and not responding to owls, letters, or Howlers. And now, here he was, tanned, tall, and grinning, with no notice.

He shrugged. "We went to the south of France first, and then Grace wanted to see Egypt. From there…I think we went to Indonesia next, and then New Zealand. We got an international Portkey last night, and here I am. You missed me?" he asked, ruffling her hair.

Cate brushed her hair back down with her fingers. "Of course. It hasn't been the same without you. But why'd you come back if you were having such a fantastic time? Where's Grace?"

Nathan shrugged. "She's at her mother's, unpacking. We thought we should make an appearance at Isabelle's wedding. Mum would murder me if I didn't."

Cate froze. "Isabelle's wedding?"

Nathan nodded. "Yeah. Two weeks from tomorrow. You forget?"

She blinked. "No."

He grinned. "You did. Don't worry about it; I'm sure Izzie doesn't want you there anyway."

Cate felt as though he had punched her. She turned around and walked into the spare room, the room where her clothes were, and took a few deep breaths. After a minute, George walked in, a frown on his face.

"Your brother said you were upset. What happened?" He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

She shook her head, leaning against him. "Nothing. He just said something stupid. It's really nothing." George didn't say anything, and Cate felt the resentment towards her brother's offhanded comment rise in her chest. "Isabelle's wedding is in two weeks. I'd completely forgotten, and with the way it's been between my family and I, I'm not sure if I'm still invited. And then Nathan said something stupid, something that normally would affect me at all, and it just hit me the wrong way. It really wasn't on purpose."

George held his breath for a moment before speaking. "It may not have been on purpose, but I bet he's regretting it. He stopped by the store to see you, you know. I invited him for dinner; I know how close the two of you are." He pulled her tighter, and kissed the top of her head. "He's been gone a long time, Cate. He really doesn't know how it's been for you."

She tensed for a second, then pulled away slightly. "I know that in my head, but it still hurt."

George let her go. "He's your brother; he'll always know what buttons to push. Or, as Ginny would say, he's an idiot, but you have to love him." He clapped his hands together and forced a grin. "Now, dinner. I've burned the rice, and the onions are dodging the knife like you wouldn't believe. Could you please, please help?" he wheedled, looking like a small child.

Cate laughed, and felt the resentment disappear. "Sure, but only if I get to tell everyone what a lousy cook you are."

* * *

The rest of the dinner went well. Nathan had several funny stories from his most recent adventure, and Cate found herself wanting to get to know Grace, his girlfriend. Nathan had always been a lady's man, with a new girl every week, but Grace was different, and she could see it in the way he talked about her.

Nathan had brought back several gifts for her- shells from the beaches in France, little knickknacks from the other locations, not all of which he could remember clearly- Cate was under the impression that most of Nathan's time had been spent with Grace, and not touring the sights. He left near eleven, after dinner and wine and talking.

He stood up rather suddenly, at the end of a story and grabbed his cloak. George stayed where he was, but Cate stood and hugged her brother, walking him to the door, where he would Apparate. He glanced over at George, who was studiously ignoring them.

"He's a good guy, Catie."

She grinned, tired and happy. "Yeah, he is. Tell Mum and Dad that I said hi, and I'll stop in tomorrow to reassure them that I'm behaving."

Nathan kissed her cheek, and she did the same back. He leaned over to her ear, and asked, "Are you happy?"

Cate thought about it for a second, and could see the concern building on Nathan's face, before laughing. "Very. Like you said, he's a good guy."

Nathan smiled widely and left, and suddenly, Cate wanted nothing more than to be in George's arms.

She walked back to the couch and flopped beside him, and loved that his arm curled around her immediately. "Nathan likes you."

George grinned. "Who wouldn't?" He pulled her closer, so that they could watch the magical flames chasing each other in the fireplace. She felt her eyes drift closed, and snuggled closer.

Just before she was totally lost into oblivion, she thought heard him whisper, "I love you, Cate."

* * *

The next few days were awkward for Cate. She wasn't sure she had heard him say what he may or may not have said, and didn't want to say anything, in case she was wrong.

Her visit to her parent's house resulted in snarls from her mother for ignoring Isabelle's special day, and panic from Isabelle, who thought the whole thing was a disaster.

Cate was supposed to be a bridesmaid, one of the ten that Isabelle had demanded, and was the only one who hadn't tried the robes and had them fitted. She had missed (or not been invited to) the original fitting, and so this one took place in her bedroom at the manor. The seamstress, a woman just slightly older than her mother, had a harried look, one that Isabelle was quick to explain to her sister as she panicked her way through the day.

The pavilion for the wedding had shown up three days late, and had had a few pieces broken or missing. Hiero was working on it, but Isabelle thought that this wedding, this showpiece of the love that she and Matthias shared, was going to fall apart before it happened. The flowers hadn't arrived on time, and neither had the food; the cake, the one she had designed with the house-elves, had fallen to pieces in minutes due to a faulty oven; the second had burned.

Isabelle had designed every element of the wedding, down to the nail color and hairstyle, and woe to anyone who interfered, even her fiancé. Cate was just the latest in a string of bumps in the plans, but, because she was Isabelle's sister, took the brunt of her sister's anger and panic.

The dress robes were extremely elegant, in sleek burgundy silk, and Cate felt beautiful as she stared at herself in the mirror. But her sister saw a flaw, and flew into a fit of rage and tears that had the seamstress near tears herself. It took a visit by their grandmother, who slapped Isabelle lightly across the face, before she could control herself.

Cate had also forgotten about the hen party. A week before the wedding, the maid of honor, Isabelle's best friend Monica, took all ten bridesmaids, Isabelle, and several of Isabelle's other friends to a club in Muggle London. Cate had never seen the like before; her sister not in control of herself, dancing and swaying to music she had never heard before, drink in hand, with two of her friends snogging Muggle boys on the side. Cate herself had more than a few drinks, and found herself wanting George before ten minutes had passed.

At the end of the night, Isabelle was nearly incoherent, and the others weren't much better. Cate stumbled from the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron into George's apartment and straight onto the sofa. George woke up and dragged her into the bedroom, where she woke the next afternoon with a pounding headache and a screaming bladder.

George came to check on her, and found her hugging the toilet, her hair a mess and eyes bleary. He stifled laughter and helped her into the kitchen, where he made her tea and whipped up a batch of Hangover Solution. Cate drink both gratefully, and winced as the headache first increased, then dulled, and the nausea went away. He also made her toast, lightly buttered, and then kissed her head and went back to the store, promising that he'd be back to check on her in an hour.

Cate stared into the tea cup, mind numb and mouth stuffed with wool. He was unsurprised when he came back to find the tea cold, the butter congealed, and that she hadn't moved a muscle. He picked her up, which was no easy feat, and carried her into the bedroom. He tucked her in and ordered her back to sleep.

She looked up at him. "You need to come to my sister's wedding with me, to make sure that I don't do this again."

He grinned. "Was that a request?"

She paused, eyes half-closed, as her brain tried to wrap itself around the question. "Not really."

George kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Then I accept. I don't want to have to do this again."

He turned off the light and closed the curtains, and was just about to leave when she mumbled something. He leaned closer. "What was that?"

Cate frowned, nearly asleep, but repeated herself. "I love you too."

George stared down at her sleeping figure for several minutes before he left, a grin on his face.

* * *

Despite Isabelle's dire predictions, the wedding went off without a hitch, and was considered one of the most beautiful ceremonies ever performed. Cate felt a rush of affection for her sister's new husband when he stuttered over the vows, and thought her sister probably the most beautiful brides to ever grace England.

Cate was the bridesmaid just before the maid of honor, and the only one who was family. Each girl carried a bouquet of lilies and orchids, all in creams and whites, and wore shimmering glass shoes that were surprisingly comfortable. And Isabelle…she was stunning.

Her robes were extremely elegant, in snow white with embroidered flowers in crystal beads over the entire train, and a low neckline that was not too low, but just barely. Her blond hair and pale face above the white gown made her appear an ice princess, but Cate could see that her sister was nervous.

And then, suddenly, the wedding was over, the bride thoroughly kissed, and the reception began.

True to his word, George kept her away from most of the alcohol, for which Cate was profoundly grateful. The dinner was spectacular, the elves having outdone themselves, and the cake moist and perfect. A photographer flitted around, his lens snapping in time with the elegant music played by a string quartet.

As the night went on, the music grew louder and more boisterous, and the quartet was replaced by a band called the Twisted Wand. After a beautiful, moving scene, where Isabelle and Hiero danced, only to be interrupted by Matthias, the music grew louder and the dancing wilder. The older guests drew back to the tables and watched as cousins, friends, and siblings celebrated with wild movements and loud singing.

George was a fantastic dancer, and fun, and always had a wicked smile on his face. Cate had to beg to sit out one set, and he invited her cousin, Rhea, only sixteen, to dance with him. Rhea blushed and laughed and had a marvelous time as he cut a swath through the other dancers, only to return to Cate's side in time for a waltz.

She lost herself in the music with him, closing her eyes and just dancing. She could hear his heartbeat, smell him (a mix of something like gunpowder and the sea), and during one part of the dance, taste him, as he leaned down and kissed her. There was a snap as the photographer captured the moment, and then they were floating away in the music.

"I…" he began, and she looked up. There was something in his face, something that he was going to say, and she waited for the words to come to him.

There was a sudden explosion, as a firework screamed into the sky and spelled out 'Isabelle and Matthias', and the moment was gone.

* * *

It felt like a turning point. She woke up in George's arms the next morning, and he kissed her and said, "I have to go to work."

She grimaced. "I don't."

George frowned. "I can't believe that no one will hire you. You're a fantastic potion maker. Your Hangover Solution is the best that I've ever had, and I've had some good ones."

Cate smirked up at him, and asked, jokingly. "So, do you have an opening?"

He looked down at her, his face set, and his voice held no hint of mockery. "Yes, in fact, I do. Cate, would you like to work for me?"

And suddenly, she was employed, and working for George. She would get a list of potions in the morning, with the three other potions makers, and work all day in a small, well-ventilated room, doing the kind of work she loved. She wasn't the boss, and actually liked the man in charge of the potions room. She and George would sometimes get lunch together, and sometimes she would eat with the others. At the end of the day, she would help him close, and they would go upstairs and eat dinner, talk about the day, work through some of his new ideas, and then go to bed.

It was the sort of life she had thought she would never have. Even her mother, when she visited during the second week, seemed satisfied with the situation, and her father congratulated her and got her a gift- a silver stirring rod, heavily wrapped in dragonhide; it was what she had always wanted, but never had the money to get for herself.

After a few days, the talk that she had only been hired because she was sleeping with George died down. After two weeks, the others had warmed to her, and by the middle of the third, she was friendly with everyone- even Verity, one of the clerks, who had a crush on George.

One night, George sent her upstairs while he finished closing, so that she could start dinner. After nearly twenty minutes, when he hadn't come back, Cate walked down the stairs, calling his name. All of the lights except one were out, and the door was locked, but there was no sign of George. She went to his office, behind the counter, still calling his name.

"George?" She pushed the door open, and gasped.

George lay prone on the ground, facedown, a small puddle of blood near his head. She rushed to his side, rolling him over gently. She touched his face, calling to him, trying to wake him, and was about to grab her wand and send a message to Harry when she saw something lying on the ground near his hand with her name on it. She sent the message, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, and opened the letter with shaking hands.

A picture fluttered to the ground- her and George dancing at Isabelle's wedding, both looking happy and peaceful, and then him leaning down and kissing her. Picking it up with nerveless fingers, she flipped the picture over.

Written on the back, in thick black strokes, were the words 'Bad dog'.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	15. Chapter 15

**Fury**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Away From It All**

She scrambled to back up from the counter as Mario unbalanced a tray full of empty, filthy dishes. She wasn't the only one; one of the customers, a regular she could never quite remember the name of, fell off his stool in his haste to get away from the stack of falling, syrupy plates and glasses. Cate hissed as her foot caught on a sticky spot on the floor, and her other leg went out from under her. She landed, hard, on her knee, and her skirt fluffed out, revealing the shorts she always wore underneath, since that incident with the drunk and his wandering hands.

The dishes shattered on impact with the floor, heavy white ceramic making crashes that sounded as though the huge plate glass windows in the front of the restaurant. The few remaining breakfast diners, mostly older men with the odd woman thrown in here or there, burst into applause, a mocking sound that Mario took in stride as he groaned and grabbed the broom. The other two waitresses rushed over, Katelyn still carrying a glass of milk.

Katelyn helped the diner to his feet, apologizing and stammering in embarrassment as she noticed the glass in her hand. Mary rolled her eyes and helped Cate to her feet, brushing off dust and plate pieces from her skirt, then walked into the back to tell the cook, Steve, to wait just a minute to call out orders because "Mario was a clumsy ass. Again."

Cate winced as she straightened out her outfit, the uniform that was mandatory at Minnie's Home-Style Café, on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. The short (for her, at least) skirt came to just above the knee, and was a lovely, if depressing, light turquoise, and the top, a too-tight sweater with a deeply scooped neck, was bright pink. She was wearing white shoes, now with a sticky brown something stuck to the bottom, and her long hair was pulled through the back of a ball-cap, in matching pink, with Minnie's logo on the front. An apron, utilitarian black, made the whole ensemble just that much better.

Mary came from the back, took one look at her, and pointed to the tiny lunchroom in back. "Go clean yourself up, girl. You're a bit of a mess. Take your time," she added, looking around the nearly-empty diner. "Lunch rush won't start for about half an hour."

Cate nodded, thanking the older blonde woman who wore too much makeup and had taken Cate under her wing from the moment she first started working. Katelyn gave her a sympathetic smile, then turned back to flirting for tips with the middle-aged customers, who were all very appreciative.

Cate shut the door to the tiny, depressing lunchroom and sat on the nearest folding chair, her legs under her, and put her head on her arms, thinking about how her life had come to this. When she had left, protecting not just herself but her family and especially George, she had been panicking.

_Ron and Harry arrived quickly, with a short, unflappable medic in tow, and took charge of the situation. Cate watched as George was strapped to a thin stretcher, and he and the medic Apparated away without any words needed. Harry and Ron began to cast charms and detection spells, and were both angrily focused. Cate simply sat there, huddled on the floor, holding the picture and unaware of her surroundings. _

_A hand on her shoulder caused her to shriek and jump, and the picture to flutter out of her hand. With one look at it, at the words on the back, Ron's face turned red, and Harry's white. They looked at each other, and Ron began to mutter under his breath, his face furious and tightly controlled. Harry sent a Patronus to someone- she didn't catch the name- and glanced down at Cate. _

"_What happened?"_

_Cate shrugged, her eyes never leaving the picture-George as he laughingly kissed her again. "I don't know. I went upstairs to start dinner, and he didn't come up. It's only been about half an hour. I didn't think…this is all my fault." The last was said with a whimper, and barely audible. _

_Harry shook his head, his eyes blazing. "No, it's not. We'll get him through this." He sighed. "In the meantime, I'd like you to go to your parent's house, and stay there. Ron and I'll check on George, and then we'll come check on you, let you know what's happening. Your house is safe, heavily warded, and virtually impenetrable. Someone is targeting you, and I can't protect both you and George right now. Can you do that?"_

_Cate nodded, an idea skittering across the surface of her mind. "Of course. Just…make sure he's alright?"_

_Harry nodded grimly. "No one will touch him again. You have my promise. He's safe, now."_

_He was safe, as safe as she could make him. She'd gone to her parents, as instructed, but hadn't gone in. The Manor was tall, imposing, and completely unfriendly. She could see herself walking in, to be immediately surrounding by parents and uncles and cousins, and she shivered. She didn't want that. She'd turned around, and began to walk away, with only one or two glances back at her childhood home. _

_She'd walked to the nearest village, a tiny Muggle place, and had found a bench just off the main street. She sat there, arms tightly around her, and made a decision. Standing again, she hugged her arms tightly around her, closed her eyes, and Apparated. _

* * *

_She Apparated to the Transportation office of the Ministry. _

_It had taken a little under twenty minutes to get permission to travel to France, because she had gone to school with the clerk, a boy named David Greer who had always fancied her, and because everyone knew her family's name. In France's Ministry, a snippety, older woman named Capucine Margaux drew up her papers to get to Russia, with warnings of recent troubles there, and, when nearly finished, was replaced by a bored, caustic girl, barely eighteen, named Veronique Vespasian, who signed the papers with a flourish, handed her a stylish, moth-eaten scarf, and ordered her from the room. _

_In Moscow, a helpful man who spoke little English helped her with the papers- a stack nearly four times as large as that in France- to get to America. She kept looking at the clock, calculating how long it would take Harry and Ron to begin tracking her. The Russian Transport Officer- named Ivan Aliev- stamped everything with an official seal, handed her the copies, and then an old soup can that would take her to the American Office of Magical Immigration in San Francisco, California, America. Then he asked her, in halting English, to breakfast, if she could stay that long, with a look that begged her to say yes._

_She waved goodbye, grabbed the can, and appeared in a tiny, cramped room, with no furniture other than a clock on the wall that read 5:46 pm. She had left London at nearly eleven at night the previous day. _

_The door to the room opened, and a middle-aged woman appeared, looking harried, and gestured wildly. "Well, come on then."_

_The tiny, cramped room was in the back of a large, cramped office. Several other similar rooms lined the back wall, and two other people darted between opening the doors and finding more people to pushing people into the rooms, holding small objects, obviously trying to get them to leave. _

_The woman pushed Cate into a chair at a desk piled high with papers and flopped into the seat. A tall, bald young man with skin the color of charcoal rushed past, his sleeve on fire, and an elderly woman speaking a completely foreign language followed, a parrot with a smoking beak on her shoulder, shouting after him. _

"_So, what brings you here?" the woman asked, as if this office weren't in complete disarray and they had all the time in the world. _

_Cate had had plenty of time to think, and had come up with a story to protect herself. "I'm from London. You know, England." The woman nodded, and a quill began to take notes. "My husband has been…has been hurting me. He said he had every right, because of…well, it doesn't matter.. My family is gone, and I have no one keeping me there. So I left. I don't want him to find me. I need a safe place to go."_

_The woman looked at her sympathetically. "Are you asking for asylum?"_

_Cate nodded, relieved. "Yes, please."_

_The woman, who hadn't yet introduced herself, grunted. "Granted. You'll be assigned a case worker, who will visit you today or tomorrow. They'll determine if you qualify to stay here permanently, and will help you find a job, a place to live, and whatnot. For now, you'll be placed in a halfway house, just until someone can look in on you. Any questions you have will be answered by your case worker, who will be…" She began to dig through some papers, finally pulling out a small card in bright yellow. "Muirgan Mallory. Oh, you'll like her," she said with a bright smile. "Now, go to that young man over there, Brian, and he'll show you how to get to the house."_

_Cate felt like a whirlwind had picked her up and shaken her world. "That's it?"_

_The woman nodded. "Yes. Is there anything else I can help you with, because I'm extremely busy…" She looked up as the man who had been on fire stalked past; the old woman following him no longer had the parrot, and she looked murderous._

_Cate shook her head, stood, and walked away. She glanced back, where the woman was glaring suspiciously at a young man with a purple scalp. She didn't even know the woman's name. _

Her case worker was a short, slender woman with wild red hair and a heavy drawl, from Texas, apparently, and extremely friendly. Muirgan (who told Cate laughingly that her parents, both born and bred in Texas, simply liked Irish names and had given all nine of their children unpronounceable names that would haunt them forever) had helped her settle into a tiny apartment in Phoenix, and found her a job at Minnie's. Cate liked the imagery- rebirth- that Phoenix promised. She also gave her a card with a phone number, and then showed Cate how to use the telephone that came with the apartment.

She'd been here for almost two years, now, two long, uneventful years. The first few months found her looking over her shoulder, though whether she hoped to see George or dreaded it were beyond her. She hadn't received any owls, but didn't expect to; Muirgan promised that she wouldn't, and that the apartment was currently owl-proof.

The job was going nowhere, but it gave her something to do, something to help pay for the things that she liked. She had a little potions lab in the corner of the kitchen, and was trying to brew a batch of Wolfsbane for herself. Transformations had been tricky, but Muirgan's younger brother, Rodhlann (he begged her to call him Rol), was a magical carpenter, and helped her build a wolf-proof cage in the middle of a safe zone in one of the nearby national park, within Apparating distance and with built-in Muggle-repelling charms.

She hadn't made many friends, but the other waitresses at the diner were nice, and the cooks sometimes made her food to bring home, if they were in a good mood. She felt lonely, sure, but Muirgan helped, and being busy did as well. When Rol, after finishing the cage, asked her out for a drink and dancing, she turned him down, saying that she wasn't quite ready yet. Since she had moved to Arizona and hidden herself away from everyone, she hadn't gone out on a single date. Not that she had dated extensively before, of course, but she still loved George.

She jumped when there was a tap at the door, and Mario, looking extremely embarrassed, poked his head in. "Mary says you gotta come out now."

Cate smiled at him, quite well aware that it didn't look genuine. "Thanks."

The boy- he was a few years younger than her, about a head taller, and twice as broad as she was- flushed again. "Sorry about…about before."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She stood slowly, testing her ankle. "Damn."

He frowned. "You hurt yourself?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

* * *

The lunch rush was always crazy. They were one of the few diners in the area, and the food was good, so the people taking off for lunch were always packed and in a hurry. She darted between tables, smiling sympathetically at Mario as he nearly unbalanced another tray and Mary stopped to yell at him. The diner was filled to bursting, and soon Cate was sick of the smells of burgers, tacos, beans, and whatever else the customers wanted.

By about three, it had slowed enough that they could each stop and take lunch. Steve, the cook, always ate on the go, even though the manager, Tim, a skinny bald man with no sense of humor, had expressly forbidden it. Cate ate quickly, making up for the half-hour she had taken before, and Mary didn't say a word when she came out of the room five minutes later, having inhaled her sandwich and orange.

Katelyn left at three fifteen; she was a college student, with classes at night; the night waitress, Rita, wouldn't be in for another hour. Mario followed at three thirty; the other busboy, Joey, would come in after school. It was just Cate for now, with Steve cleaning up the lunch mess. She had taken a long shift, today; she didn't want to sit in her tiny, depressing apartment and watch her cauldron bubble.

She whipped through her orders, drew in quite a number of tips (especially from the young male college crowd), and, by the time her shift ended, was utterly exhausted. At least tonight she wouldn't be stuck with clean up; Mario had been ordered back in, with pay, by Mary, to make the place spotless with Joey.

She walked back to her apartment- she couldn't even think of it as home- on a throbbing ankle and with a pocket full of cash. She loved waitressing, if only for the ready cash and the anonymity. She carried the hat in one hand, and kept her other tightly attached to her purse, which held her wand. The streets weren't too busy, now, and she was at her door in less than five minutes.

The red paint was peeling in the corners, and the brick of the building was chipped at the edges. The windows on the lower floors all had bars over them, and the doors were all attached to a high-tech security system that was probably worth more than the building it protected. She walked slowly up the stairs to her second floor rooms, and, when she was inside, flopped onto the sagging couch.

Merlin's beard, the place was depressing. It had pale beige paint on every wall, and the cupboards were all painted a drab shade of yellow. The refrigerator was full, though, and the cupboards. She had bought plates, silverware; she had even splurged on curtains, and the cheerful blue against the drab beige was nearly painful to look at.

She sat for a long time, listening to the ticking of the clock and the bubbling of her cauldron, before she rolled onto her back and put her feet, shoes and all, onto the other end of the couch, hearing the groan and creak of the broken board in the center. She put her arm over her eyes and took several deep breaths.

There was something she always said when she was in this mood, a reminder of why she put up with this place and this outfit and the job and the dirty city and the unfamiliar food…

George was safe. George was safe. George was safe.

She kept chanting it, over and over in her mind, as she screamed her tears and frustration into the pillow she kept just for that occasion.

Following her nightly ritual, she fell asleep with tears drying on her cheeks and the mantra in her head.

George was safe. Safe without her.

* * *

Rodhlann (Rolan) and Muirgan (Mireen). Updated as of October 2011.


	16. Chapter 16

**Fury**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Missing**

Two years. Two years since he'd sent her upstairs while he finished closing, because he was hungry and she was a better cook than he was. Two years since he'd seen a jet of red light coming towards him, and hit his head- apparently- on a hard surface before hitting the floor. Two years since he'd woken at St. Mungo's, looking for her, only to be told that she was gone.

She hadn't left a note, hadn't taken anything with her. Her clothes were as she'd left them in his room, neatly folded, and all of the pictures were there in their frames. The only thing missing was her wand, and her.

His injuries hadn't been too bad, he was told, nothing an overnight stay wouldn't fix. He'd begged Harry and Ron to check on her, and they'd sent his mother to make sure he didn't try to leave. He'd told them, later, that it was an extremely low blow, and they could expect something in return. But they'd come back too soon, with worried expressions, and said she wasn't where she was supposed to be.

He'd panicked a bit, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. They'd quickly told him, Ron's ears bright red, that there was no sign of foul play, and they expected she'd just…not done as she'd been asked. They reassured him that they would find her, and then Ron took their mother to the side and spoke quietly to her while Harry tried to distract George.

It had taken a couple of days to discover she'd gone to France. George hadn't been able to go back to the apartment; too many memories of her. He'd gone home with his mother, but he couldn't stay in his old room, either; too many memories of Fred. Bill's old room was comfortable, but he'd only made it a week before his mother's coddling had driven him mad.

Harry and Ron tracked her as far as Russia, but were unable to find any trace of her after that, and then there was a huge murder of some sort, and they were called away. George couldn't stay at the shop and do nothing; he'd gone to Russia himself and talked to anyone who would listen. He'd made sure that he got supplies for the shop as an excuse, but he wasn't sure anyone bought it. No one seemed to know anything.

When he'd told her parents and grandmother, with the one brother, Nathan, looking on, he'd been stunned at their reactions. Not that he expected huge shows of grief, but it was a bit ridiculous. Her father sank into the sofa and looked older, somehow, but not surprised. Her mother sat there, cold and stiff, and didn't appear to react at all. Nathan punched the wall and left without a word. Her grandmother thanked him, and then asked if he'd like tea. If it had been his family, he would have had to fight to keep them from leaving and beginning the search.

As he was escorted to the door, her father patted him on the shoulder. "Thank you. I know you've done your best, but my little Catie won't be found if she doesn't want to be." He took a deep breath. "She was better with you. I just wanted you to know that I saw that."

George tried to cover his shock. "That's it? She's good at hiding, so give up? I don't think so. What kind of father are you?"

Hiero straightened. "One who would like you to leave now." He opened the door and pushed lightly on George's back, then shut the door in his face. George stared at it for a moment, then snorted in disgust and walked away.

He jumped when he heard footsteps running behind him. Nathan looked slightly out of breath and furiously angry. "George, wait!"

George paused and thrust his hands in his pockets. The wind blew his hair in his face, and he felt his face freeze in an expressionless mask.

Nathan skidded to a halt. "You'll keep looking, right? You'll find her?"

George nodded tersely. "I don't understand why they won't," he said, thrusting his jaw at the Manor.

Nathan's face darkened suddenly. "You wouldn't," he growled, then turned around and began to walk back.

George felt his temper rise. "That's it?" He snarled. "Oh, I get it. It's because she's not _perfect_ like the rest of you, is that it? Because she's a werewolf, right?"

Nathan spun and clenched his fists. "No, it's because it's her fault that Leo died!"

* * *

He hadn't visited her family after that. He'd send an owl if he got a lead, but they were few and far between. He knew she'd been briefly in France; their Ministry told him so. They'd shown him the paperwork, commenting furiously in French the whole time, but only after he'd asked Fleur to come with him to help translate.

She'd gone straight to Russia from France, and the Russian Ministry was completely and utterly unhelpful. Their records were not open to the public, he'd been told more than once, and even if they were, unless he was her husband or family, or an official diplomat of some kind, he'd never get to look. Her trail ended in Russia.

The newspapers had been full of reports of her disappearance and his attack, from the nearly true to blatantly false. He'd followed up on several leads, but always came back empty. By the time he'd spent several hundred Galleons and gotten back to exactly where he'd started, a year had passed. Her family, from all intents and purposes, had given up months before. Even Harry and Ron hadn't been able to help.

Finally, after a frustrating day, Ginny, his baby sister, sat him down and told him to think about it calmly and rationally. She hadn't been kidnapped, wasn't hurt, wasn't dangerous; _she'd_ left _him_. Maybe, she said slowly, maybe Cate didn't want to be found, and maybe she'd want him to get on with his life. Ginny hadn't been judgmental, and wasn't trying to be cruel; he knew she genuinely liked Cate. Hearing it put so baldly, he rocked back, as if to a blow.

From that day forward, he'd gone back to doing what he knew best. He made several new innovations, not all of them joke-related. His family all helped, in one way or another. He'd show up after work, and his mother would have left him a plate of dinner, waiting to be reheated, on the table, and the apartment would be spotless. Hermione directed him to a few books that might help his research on new ideas. Bill and Percy did what they could with the business, and Charlie sent him anything he needed that was dragon-related. His father, he knew, kept his ears open at work for word about Cate, but didn't actively seek anything out. Ginny occasionally helped with his laundry.

He still thought about her, of course. He hadn't ever really stopped wondering why she'd left, wondering what she would think of this invention, or that article in the newspaper. He wondered if she was thinking about him. He didn't _forget_ her.

He'd been fine, dealing, for nearly a year now, and then this…_thing_ had come. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to an owl tapping on the window, a letter in its beak. He'd opened it quickly without checking the name on the front. There was a picture inside, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was Cate. It had to have been taken recently; the date scrawled across the back was a clear indicator. She was in what appeared to a restaurant, wearing a ridiculous outfit. Her face was clearly visible, especially with her hair pulled back. He found himself staring at it. She looked tired. He ran a finger down the edge of her face, and was surprised when it didn't move. It wasn't a Wizarding picture.

He grabbed his wand from the bed table and sent Harry a message, not checking the time and not caring. Then he tapped the picture and muttered the Engorgement Charm. The picture grew quickly, until it was just under life size. The edges brushed against the wall and the bed, but he didn't notice.

There was a logo on her hat, and something in the background, painted on the wall. He squinted, but he could only make out a few letters. Moments later, he heard pounding on the door, and Harry's voice shouting.

"George!"

George stared a second longer before going to the front door. Harry had his wand in hand, and his hair was mussed. His glasses hung off of one ear, and he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked ready for action and impossibly tired.

George blinked at him. "You look bloody awful, mate."

Harry scowled. "What did you think I'd look like? It's bloody four in the morning!"

George frowned. "Oh."

Harry shoved past him, shaking his head. "Ginny just got Al to fall asleep. And James won't sleep with Al crying; I've been up with him all night. And then, just when I bloody put my head on the bloody pillow, I get a message from you, saying get here right now, it's urgent, and you bloody didn't look at the bloody _time_?"

"You kiss my sister with that mouth?" George asked, finding himself grinning, but then he saw that Harry wasn't amused. "I guess it could have waited; I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry took one look at his grinning face and began to mumble under his breath. "You're bloody right it could have waited. What is it, then?"

George motioned to his bedroom. "After you."

* * *

It didn't take Harry long to convince George that yes, this could have waited until later in the morning, perhaps after the sun had risen, but that he, Harry, could see why it would get George excited. He reduced the picture, shoved it in his pocket, and promised to get answers to him later that day. Then he left, presumably to get some sleep before his sons woke up.

George, of course, could not get back to sleep. Memories of her kept rushing through his mind- her eyes, her smile, her body- that led to other problems. He showered, dressed casually, and made tentative plans, conveniently forgetting that _she_ had left _him_. He made notes on his current lines of research, and lists of things for his employees to accomplish if he were gone long, which he planned to be. He was going to find her, whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Harry Flooed him at about one in the afternoon. He'd been pacing for twenty minutes, and his apartment, normally untidy, was spotless. He hadn't been down to the shop, yet; he didn't think he could focus, and he didn't want to miss Harry's call. Besides, the shop could run for a few days without him. He'd hired good people, after all.

Harry's face looked utterly exhausted, but cheerful. "Hiya, George."

George knelt down in front of the fireplace, grinning. "Hey, Harry. Feeling better?"

Harry's smile seemed forced. "Almost chipper. James got into the dog food this morning, and Al decided that he was going to get sick on Ginny while she was feeding him breakfast."

George laughed. "So you were glad to have an excuse to get out of there. I see how it is." He abruptly became more serious. "Did you find out anything?"

Harry nodded. "The picture was taken a few days ago at a café in Phoenix, Arizona, in the United States. It's called Minne's Home-Style Café. I called one of my counterparts in America and had him see if there were any witches working there. He said there wasn't a record of one."

George opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "That doesn't mean it isn't her; it just means she hasn't been using magic in the area. So I gave him her name and description, and he got all quiet and said that her records are protected. Seems she requested asylum. I couldn't get anything from him other than that she does live in America, and no, he can't say where. But I sent an official request, and should be getting more information soon."

George sighed. "That's more than I had before."

Harry nodded. "Exactly." He glanced behind him. "Listen, George, I've got to go. Why don't you come over tonight? The kids would love to see you, and I know Ginny wants to have a conversation with someone that's nearly an adult."

George shrugged. "I don't see why not." He couldn't make himself be particularly

Harry grinned. "Great. See you at six."

* * *

Harry and Ginny lived in a lovely house on a quiet Muggle street in Exeter. There'd been a loud and heated debate about it, he'd heard, when they were newly married; Harry already owned Grimmauld Place, after all, and it wasn't so bad now that it was cleaned up. But Ginny had been adamant; her own apartment in Holyhead had been an eye-opening experience, and she liked a bigger house that didn't have so many memories. And, as they weren't too far from the Burrow, it was convenient for Molly, which made everyone happy.

He Apparated in their backyard, which was small and fenced with a couple of trees, and then to the back door. He hadn't ever seen his sister or her husband use the front door, except for Muggle visitors. Ginny answered his knock quickly, and he took a moment to take in her appearance.

Not since she'd been playing professional Quidditch had his sister looked so exhausted. Her long red hair, grown since she'd retired from the Harpies, hung limp around her face; her brown eyes had large dark circles around them. She wore a ratty old shirt and loose pants, and had bare feet. She carried baby Albus on her hip.

Her expression changed from annoyance to relief in a heartbeat. "Oh, thank Merlin!" she said, and stepped aside. "Here, take him. I'm going to get a shower in before Harry gets home. Dinner's in the oven, and James is in the living room, playing with the dog. Don't let him get into anything. Al should be fine. I'll just be a few minutes."

And, just like that, he had one black-haired baby in his arms and a rowdy red-headed toddler racing around his legs, babbling a mile a minute and trying to get into everything. By the time Ginny came down the stairs, her hair damp and dressed in clean clothes, he was sitting on the sofa in the living room. Al was watching James floating near the ceiling, and George had his wand out and was casually spinning his nephew.

Ginny opened her mouth, then shook her head and left the room. George laughed and floated James near the floor. He spread out his arms and started shrieking playfully. The dog barked and started chasing him. Al cooed and gnawed on George's finger.

Harry walked in the back door and saw to his relief that Ginny was showered and making dinner. He walked over and kissed her quickly. "Sorry I'm late."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it. George is amusing the kids, so I got to shower. Last I checked he was floating Jamie around the ceiling and playing with Al. The dog's in there, too."

Harry grinned. "I'll just get changed, then. What's for dinner?"

Ginny sighed. "For once, not take-out."

* * *

George played with his nephews until James was red in the face and the dog had completely lost its mind. Harry joined him after changing out of his work robes, and the two spent the time before dinner talking about the kids and conjuring things for the dog to chase.

Dinner was as rowdy as two toddlers could make it. Ginny would feed James in his chair with one hand and eat with the other; Harry cuddled Al and his bottle in one arm and ate with his other. It was made more difficult by the fact that as he talked, he tended to gesture wildly. George laughed and made jokes, and gave the dog scraps under the table.

After dinner, which took twice as long as usual, with the kids, Ginny took the boys upstairs to get ready for bed. The dog stayed with Harry, and he and George went into his office, at the back of the house. Harry sat at his large desk, and George took the large green, overstuffed chair that he vaguely remembered coming from Grimmauld Place. The dog rested at Harry's feet, and quickly fell asleep.

Harry relaxed, and one of the wheels of his chair squeaked as he leaned back. "I've gotten some more information for you. It seems Cate requested asylum because of an abusive husband."

George frowned. "She wasn't married, and I certainly didn't hurt her."

Harry shrugged. "She was trying to get her records hidden, I presume. The man I was talking to, Hunter Thorne, said that since it was an official request, he had to give me everything, but he didn't like it. I told him I'd been looking for her for nearly two years, and that the trail had gone cold with him." Harry pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. "Do you remember when she left?"

George nodded slowly. "I was attacked at the shop. She was gone when I woke up."

Harry grunted. "She'd been getting letters telling her to leave you alone. You know what she was; it isn't uncommon for werewolves to get threats. She was dealing with it, I think, until you were hurt. She left to protect you. I'd be remiss to give this to you without telling you that. I think she was trying to do the right thing."

George glared at his brother-in-law. "She didn't have to leave in the middle of the night like that. If she'd just told me what was going on, I would have done my best…"

Harry leaned forward on his knees. "It wasn't just you she was protecting. If they couldn't find her, they couldn't hurt her. I'm not condoning her actions, George," he said, raising his hands as George opened his mouth to protest. "I'm just trying to make you understand."

George sat up. "I completely understand. And when I go there and talk to her, we'll discuss it. She can tell me her reasons, and I'll convince her that they're wrong. I'm not letting her sacrifice what we had for nothing."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think she'll see it that way, but I won't stop you from trying." He smiled. "I liked her."

* * *

George Flooed back to his apartment after saying goodnight to his nephews and sister. He brushed himself off and flopped onto the couch, thinking. He couldn't leave until tomorrow at the earliest; the Ministry wouldn't hand him a Trans-Atlantic Portkey without a great deal of gold and paperwork.

He jumped when he heard someone clear their throat. He stood and spun, and saw, in the shadows of the fireplace, someone standing near his door. "Who are you?" he demanded, reaching for his wand.

"That won't be necessary," the woman said, stepping into the light. "I've come to speak to you, George Weasley."

George frowned. "Elspeth Moon? How did you get in here?"

She smiled, and her face, which had seemed old and haggard, suddenly glowed. "I've come to speak to you about my granddaughter." She ignored his question.

George's eyes narrowed. "If you think I'll stop searching for her…"

Elspeth shook her head. "No. In fact, I have heard that you received new information tonight that might lead you to her."

George nodded slowly. "But how did you…"

Elspeth waved her hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter." She took a deep breath. "I would like you to deliver a message to my granddaughter, if you find her. Would you tell her that her family misses her, and wishes for her to come home?"

George blinked. "Of course." He paused, and added, "I thought you didn't care."

Elspeth sighed. "Never that. I may be many things, but you must never think that. And…" She dug into her pocket and pulled out a letter. "Could you give her this, please?"

George took the letter from her, and shoved it into his pocket. "When I find her, I'll tell her."

Elspeth grinned, looking much younger. "You've made an old woman happy, George Weasley. And you might want to check the wards around this place; they were a bit sloppy."

George's mouth dropped open slightly.

Elspeth opened the door, ever elegant and still grinning. "Oh, my granddaughter didn't tell you? I was a Cursebreaker in my youth. Wards were my specialty. Yours, my dear, yours were pathetic."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	17. Chapter 17

**Fury**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**It Happened One Day **

Cate hurried into work; for the first time since she'd started, she was late. True, a minute and a half wasn't too late, but Mary still wasn't pleased, since today was the day Katelyn had taken off, and there was no one but the two of them to cover the shift. She only worked until five, today; she had a few vague ideas of what she wanted to do tonight, but they were only half-formed, and not yet appealing.

She dashed around like a mad woman, and didn't notice strands of her hair coming out of her ponytail and curling around her face. The air conditioning wasn't working properly; it kicked in and out, so she was alternately freezing and boiling, and the customers weren't too happy, either. She could have fixed it with a quick wave of her wand, but she hadn't used magic at work, yet, and didn't plan to, ever. She barely used it at home anymore.

The regulars- those men who came in every day, ate the same thing, left the same tip, and went to the same, boring job- noticed how busy the two women were, and were quieter, and certainly less flirty. Cate normally smiled at them a lot; it made for larger tips. Today, however, she was in no mood. Even the unflappable Mary was peeved; their cook, Steve, had the day off as well, and the backup cook was burning everything. Lunch couldn't come soon enough.

Mary gave her a break as soon as the morning rush was over, and a look that said if she wasn't back in fifteen minutes, she would regret it. She went into the break room, grabbed her bottle of water, and drank until it was nearly gone. She put her head on the table and waited. She would go to the bathroom right before her break was done, but for now, she just wanted to close her eyes and breathe.

She and Muirgan had gone to a movie the previous weekend, and the main character had been a waitress. She'd always looked clean and put together, and had never had a moment of stress in her job. Cate had laughed bitterly under her breath.

Mary came in right at the fifteen minute mark, and Cate was ready to go. She smiled cheerfully at Mary, neither caring that it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She bustled around tables, as always annoyed by the fact that the skirt felt too short, and she had never liked her knees- they were knobby things, and didn't suit the rest of her legs. George had liked them, though.

She shoved that thought firmly back in place as she put a platter of pancakes and bacon in front of an elderly man who came in every day at this time, sat in the same seat, and ordered the same thing. She rushed back to the counter when he tapped the side of his coffee mug, grunting a request for a refill. There were only a handful of customers left, all regulars, and now all were eating, though she'd probably have to get Mr. McGrady his bill soon.

The bell over the door jingled as three plant workers came in, followed by two scrawny boys that appeared to be skipping school. She glanced over at the break room, but Mary was outside, smoking a cigarette. She grabbed her pad off the counter by the cash register and helped seat the plant workers, then the boys, who wanted a booth in the back of the room. The plant workers lined the counter, and seemed to take up twice as much space as normal men. She took their orders, and then gave the two teenagers waters until they could cobble together enough money for something to eat.

She had just given Mr. McGrady his bill when the bell jingled again. Sighing- Mary was still outside smoking, and it was long past her fifteen minutes- she turned to help the customer and froze.

It was George, looking as magnificent as she had remembered. He was dressed in Muggle clothes- a loose t-shirt in vibrant red with a dragon on the front and a pair of jeans- and his hair was shorter than she remembered, showing his mangled ear. He was gorgeous.

She couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the floor, and her hand hung limp at her sides. She was suddenly embarrassed by the turquoise and pink of her uniform, and she could see tendrils of hair coming loose around her face. She wanted so badly to sink into the floor.

"Hey, Cate."

She stared at him, her mouth moving. Mary hustled into the front, a cloud of smoke hanging off of her, tying her apron on and poking Cate in the shoulder. "Get a move on, sweetheart. Seat him and take his order. We haven't got all day."

Cate took a tentative step forward, then another. "How?"

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets, ignoring the stares of the other customers. "Friends in high places and all that. Aren't you glad to see me?"

She didn't answer. She took a running leap and jumped on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. He was real. She felt tears sliding down her cheeks, and suddenly she was kissing him, hungry for his mouth. He seemed no less happy to see her, she noted; his mouth found hers just as quickly.

There were whoops and cheers from the customers, and Cate suddenly pulled back, embarrassed. Mary stood there, mouth hanging open and a grin on her face. "You know him, sweetheart, or you just being friendly?"

Everyone laughed appreciatively. Mary jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and Cate grabbed George's hand and dragged him into the break room. It didn't matter anymore that less than an hour ago she had felt like her life was at a standstill; it didn't matter that he wasn't supposed to have found her. He was here.

She kissed him again, a little less urgently, and felt his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. She broke for air a moment later, panting, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I missed you," he said, a grin in his voice. "And from that welcome, you missed me."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Of course I did, idiot."

He was smirking. "Let's see if I can go back to being clever." He leaned down and kissed her again. Another breathless moment passed, and she stood with her eyes closed, smiling. "Am I clever yet?"

She nodded, speechless. "But you shouldn't be here," she said, pushing him away. "I left to…I left for a reason."

George raised an eyebrow. "Would that reason include threats against me? Because Harry told me about those, and I still don't understand your logic. I'm a grown man, Cate, and I can protect myself. And I can protect you, too."

Cate rolled her eyes. "I would agree, except they attacked you and you couldn't defend yourself. This way, I was sure they wouldn't come after you."

He frowned. "But…"

She held up a hand, taking another step back. "No. I could be miserable here as long as I knew you were safe. I'll have to go somewhere else, where they can't find me."

George shook his head. "You're not leaving me again," he said vehemently, his voice shaking with anger.

Cate wouldn't look at him. "I'll do what I must," she said quietly, staring at the filthy floor.

George put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. "Do you really want to know how I found you?" he asked, his eyes like fire. "They sent me an owl with your picture, working here, in this very café. There wasn't anything written on it, and Harry couldn't find out who took it, because it was a Muggle picture, but they know right where you are, Cate, and I'd be surprised if they haven't known for a while."

She could feel tears sliding down her cheeks as she stared at the image. "But I was so careful…"

There was a shout outside in the dining room, and a crash of plates. Cate frowned and reached for the doorknob, but a shot rang out. She immediately sank to the ground, staring wild-eyed at George. "That was a gun," she whispered, terrified. She reached into her apron before she growled a curse. "I don't have my wand."

George pulled his out of his back pocket. "What's going on out there? Can you see?"

Cate pushed the door open a crack and looked out. Her view was mostly blocked by the counter, but she could see smashed plates on the ground, full of food, and hear something near the doorway. The cook was on the ground, whimpering and holding his shoulder. She couldn't get to him, and she didn't see anyone standing near the counter.

"Get the money, bitch!"

The command came from near the cash register, and she saw Mary's shoes, followed by Mary and a man in black wearing a mask, holding a gun to Mary's head.

"Where's the other one?" another voice called out from the other side of the room, and she heard the sounds of the blinds dropping onto the window ledge. The room was suddenly darker.

The man with the gun to Mary's head pushed, and Mary shrieked. "Did you hear him, bitch? Where's the other waitress?"

Mary's eyes darted to the door, and Cate felt her breath catch in her throat. "George, hide. They're coming."

"Then get over here and I'll hide us both," he whispered harshly, holding out his hand.

She shook her head. "They know I'm here. Just…hide yourself. I'll be fine." She gave him a weak smile. "Trust me?"

His gave her a silent snarl, and, with a wave of his wand, disappeared. She could just make him out if she tried, but only because she knew where he was.

The door was kicked open, and rebounded off of her shoulder. She cried out wordlessly as she was pulled bodily to her feet by the hair. She could see the outline of George take a step towards her, but she just shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks from the rough treatment.

The man dragged her out into the dining area and flung her to the floor. "Found her," he growled, his voice low and rough.

The other man holding Mary grunted. "Watch her. I'll get the money. We gotta be outta here fast."

Mary was panting, her face white and lips pinched. Cate felt a surge of pity and, before she knew what was happening, said, "Can't you just let her go? She's going to pass out if you keep pushing her."

The man standing above her backhanded her, hard. "Shut up, bitch," he said without rancor, ignoring her.

Mary opened the cash register with shaking fingers. Cate took the opportunity to look around. The customers were all huddled on the floor against the wall; two of the factory workers appeared unconscious, and one was holding a bloody hand to his leg and groaning. She saw another man dressed in black standing by the door, a shotgun in his hands. He glanced at her, appraised her quickly, and turned back to the street.

There was a ding as the cash register opened, and Mary was flung to the ground next to her, sobbing. Cate gathered the older woman into her arms and held her, her eyes never leaving the men with guns. They emptied the cash into a small bag, and the man standing above her tossed it to the guy by the door, who put it behind his back, under a vest.

There was the distant sound of sirens, and one of the men cursed. "They must have an alarm or something."

The man above her growled. "Or the bitch called from the back." He looked down at her, his eyes dark and angry. "Did you call the cops, bitch?"

Cate shook her head. "N…no," she said, hating the stutter in her voice. She'd faced Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake, and these were only petty thugs with guns. She'd seen worse. She'd been through worse.

_Ah_, the little voice in her head said, _but you had your wand then_. The little voice sounded like her mother, and she nearly snarled at it to shut up.

The man by the door interrupted her self-pity. "Doesn't matter now. They're here. Stick to the plan."

The man standing above them grabbed Cate's arm and jerked her to her feet and the man by the door sighed. "Put her in front of me, then move back."

Cate glanced at the door to the break room, where she could see George's silhouette.

She froze when she felt the cold metal press against the side of her neck. She stiffened instinctively, and the man took advantage of it, pressing her against the door and calling out to the tense crowd, "I'm coming out! Don't shoot or the bitch dies!"

She was shoved through the door, catching the flash of movement near the break room that signaled that George was moving. Before she could say anything, she was through the door, though only a few steps, and the gunman pressed against her, completely shielded. She didn't hear what he was yelling at the police, only the sound of blood pounding in her ears. Her knees were shaking, and her hands were locked around the edges of her skirt in a death-grip. Her eyes darted around wildly, catching all of the activity around her.

Through the shouting and cursing, from both sides, she could hear echoing sobs as Mary was pushed against one of the windows, a gun to her head; one of the young boys was next to her in a similar position.

And, as quickly as anything had ever happened in her life, the man behind her began to shout, digging the gun into the side of her neck and pushing her forward slightly, away from the building.

She nearly screamed when he yanked her back, pulling her tight against his body and backing slowly towards the building. The door opened behind him, and he rushed in, shoving her forward. She stumbled, barely avoiding falling, and pulled herself up. Just before he shut the door, he caught her eye and winked. She felt the blood drain from her face, and turned to the police.

"Yo, bitch!" he called, his voice amused. "I got a message for you!"

The police were urging her forward, and she could see long guns trained on the windows behind her. She took a halting step forward, ignoring the taunting voice, the little voice saying George would be fine, they didn't know he was there, and he'd want her to get away…

"I said I got a message for you bitch!" She turned her head slightly, catching him out of the corner of her eye. He leveled the gun at her, and she froze, seeing something in his sleeve, something impossible.

He grinned behind his mask. "Bad dog."

Her eyes widened.

The bullet ripped through her stomach.

And the three gunmen dressed in black Apparated away.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	18. Chapter 18

**Fury**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Silver**

She blinked slowly, stupidly, staring up at the bright lights hovering above her. There was a buzzing in her ear and a wretched pain in her side, and there was something wrong with both of her arms, and she couldn't have moved to save her life. She knew something important, vitally so, was happening, but damned if she knew what it was. And there was something else, something niggling at the back of her mind as she fought to rise above the undercurrent of foggy forgetfulness.

There was a crash, and then someone cursed. "Can't they keep this damn thing steady?" a male voice asked, annoyance in every word.

There was a high-pitched sound wailing above her, and she couldn't move her arms. Groaning, she turned her neck, but that wasn't really moving, either.

"She's awake!" another voice cried, and there was a sudden flurry of activity. A face hovered above her, handsome in its way, she supposed, focusing on the brown eyes that searched her face worriedly.

"Cate, do you know where you are?"

She frowned. She was at work. Or in her apartment. Either way, she didn't know him. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She shook her head instead.

His mouth thinned. "You're being transported to Saint Joseph's Hospital. You've been shot. We should be there in the next couple of minutes, so I don't want you to worry."

She fought the rising tide of panic as she remembered, vividly, exactly what had happened. And then there was that very last memory, right before she woke up here, in this dangerous Muggle ambulance…

George, his face white, screaming as he ran towards her falling body.

She blinked at the man hovering above her and opened her mouth. The word came out in a whisper. "George?"

The man glanced at the front of the ambulance. "Your husband? He's following. One of the officers is bringing him."

They hit a bump and she winced as her body was jostled. There should have been pain, but there was just a delightfully numb feeling. The man's jaw was thrust forward as he yelled to be more careful.

She stared at the back of his head as the world went out of focus again, and she sank into blackness.

* * *

The next time she woke up, there were lights rolling by above her, and voices speaking rapidly, and someone calling her name in a shout, as though from a distance. She closed her eyes again as sudden agony ripped through her stomach. She couldn't even scream.

The darkness pulled her under.

* * *

They had stopped moving.

"The bullet is lodged near her liver. I don't think its copper…perhaps steel, or silver, but that can't be what's causing her levels to rise…" The voice trailed off, and Cate sank back into the warm, welcoming darkness, not wanting to know more.

* * *

"Mr. Weasley, we're going to take her into surgery now. The bullet will have to be surgically removed, and it appears that there was some liver and kidney damage that will need to be repaired. We need to get her in immediately. Can I have you sign this form?"

Cate opened her eyes slowly, hearing the voices on the side of the room. There were several machines beeping around her, but she didn't really care. _He_ was speaking.

"Can I see her before you take her in?" His voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he was holding back tears. A pen scratched across a piece of paper.

The other man's voice was full of sympathy. "Of course, but you'll need to be quick." There was a rustle of fabric. "This surgery is pretty common. She should pull through, but it'll be a few hours. Is there anyone you can call, her family, friends, anyone who can be here with you?"

George paused. "They're all back home, in England. I haven't…I'll call when she's in surgery, but…"

"That's alright. Be quick. The nurses should be back momentarily to begin prepping her."

George came into her line of sight, his face drawn and pale. "Cate?" he whispered, seeing her eyes on him. "Hey."

She smiled, and tried to speak, but nothing came out. He went to her side and grabbed her hand; she could just feel the pressure on her fingertips. He choked back a sob.

"You're going to be fine. The doctors said that they should be able to fix everything. It won't be as quick as back home," he added slowly, and low so that no one else could hear. "But they've said they're the best in the area." He paused, and his eyes filled with tears. "I'll call Hermione; she should be able to get word to your family."

She squeezed his hand as hard as she could, which wasn't much. A tear slid down his cheek. "I won't lose you again, not just after I've found you. I'll be waiting here the whole time. I promise."

A group of people surrounded her, fiddling with the machines. A woman put a hand on George's shoulder, and he straightened. "I've got to go, love, but I'll be waiting for you. I promise." He squeezed her hand. "Love you."

She blinked in response, and then they did something, and she fell asleep.

* * *

She woke again, and nearly screamed from the pain. They were doing something, and it hurt, it hurt, _it hurt_…

There were voices; one, a woman's, gave an order, and there was less pain, but now there was a burning, a screaming agony, all in her stomach, and there shouldn't have been.

She didn't so much as fall asleep again as pass out from the sheer agony. It felt like the bullet was ripping through her again.

* * *

She was in a beige room, in a bed, and she still couldn't move, though there wasn't the pain and agony that she remembered. Her mouth was dry, her stomach was numb, and she felt like she was choking. She tried to gasp in air, but there was something blocking her throat. She began to flail around, and panic truly set in.

Then, there were hands on hers, gently pulling them away from her mouth, and a voice, low and calm, telling her not to panic, that she had a breathing tube, and that she was perfectly alright. She stared up at the face, an older woman with kind brown eyes and long dark hair pulled back from her face. She spoke slowly, telling Cate where she was, how she had gotten there, and that the surgery had gone very well. She also said that Cate had a guest. Cate stared at the woman, and felt herself drifting back to sleep.

* * *

She was in a beige room, in a bed, and she still couldn't move, though there wasn't the pain and agony that she remembered. Her mouth was dry, her stomach was numb, and she felt like she was choking, but it all felt familiar. She felt her mouth; there was a tube in it, and she remembered that it would help her breathe, and she didn't fight it this time.

There was someone sitting next to her bed. She turned her head as much as she could, which wasn't a lot, and saw George, sound asleep, his face relaxed and mouth open as he snored gently. His arms were crossed around his chest, and his legs were straight out, nearly touching the bed.

He looked both peaceful and exhausted, and he looked wonderful.

She hadn't had much chance to study him when he came into the café, but now, relaxed in sleep, she could see that the last year had been kinder to him than it had to her.

He looked better, somehow, and much older, as though the last two years had aged him beyond his years. His red hair, one of her favorite features, was shorter, and slightly shaggy, as though it could stand to be cut. His right ear hole was visible, which was a change; he hadn't ever been keen on showing it before, and had kept his hair long, to hide it. His eyes were closed, but there were little crinkles around the edges, as though he had been smiling for a long time in the sun. He had, if it was possible, more freckles, and was tanned; his nose was slightly burned and peeling. He looked broader in the chest, and the green sweater he wore, with the sleeves rolled up, was stretched perfectly, accenting the hint of muscle that hadn't been there the last time.

She wanted to run her hands through his hair; she wanted to run away again. It seemed that as long as she was near him, they were both in danger. She hadn't received a message until he'd appeared, but then, she didn't want to be away from him, either.

She turned away as the door to her room opened, and a doctor in a long white coat walked in, followed by a shorter, younger nurse. George woke with a snort, nearly falling out of his chair, then stretched quickly and moved to stand by her bed, out of the way.

The doctor came over to her bed and started reading off numbers to the nurse, who scribbled them down furiously, as he checked her over. He made a few comments, but Cate didn't really pay attention; George was looking at her, his eyes dulled slightly with sleep but still the same lovely brown that she remembered. She tried to smile, but nothing was working as it should; George gave her a tight grin that looked more like a grimace.

The doctor finally seemed to notice that she was awake.

"Ah, Mrs. Weasley. I'm Doctor Pender. Good to see you up and about." It was an incredibly tactless thing to say, something George would have said, or at least appreciated, but he didn't appear to be in the mood. And that was the second time she remembered being called Mrs. Weasley.

Pender made a few cursory examinations and pronounced himself satisfied with her progression, then motioned for George to have a seat.

"Now, Mrs. Weasley…" he began, but George held up a hand.

"Please, call her Cate. Mrs. Weasley's my mother." Cate nodded, sending a shot of irritation down her throat.

"Alright then. Not a problem. Cate, you were shot in the back, just below the tenth rib. The bullet tore through your liver and penetrated your right kidney, and exited near your naval. The surgeons were able to repair all of the damage, and there should be no lasting side effects. Interestingly enough, the bullet was silver, which caused more damage than a normal, copper bullet would have. You also lost a lot of blood…" He trailed off, seeing something in both of their faces. "What?"

George frowned. "You said the bullet was silver?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Not exactly rare, but uncommon enough that the police were sure they'd be able to track down the shooters quickly." He misread the look that George gave him. "Now, the shooter might have been delusional, thinking he was shooting a werewolf," Pender laughed; the nurse gave a pained laugh as well, as though she could tell that the doctor wasn't being reassuring. "But it is becoming more widely known that a silver bullet doesn't deform as much as a lead or copper bullet at short range, and can be more dangerous."

George nodded, and his voice was chocked. "Yes, of course. It's just that…well, she's allergic to silver." He looked down at his hands.

Pender blinked. "Ah. That would explain some of the complications that we encountered in the surgery. Nothing too horrible, I assure you!" he explained, noting George's worried frown. "The surgeons really did an excellent job." Flustered, he flipped through his notes. "Okay, now. I see we did have to give you a transfusion, which is not uncommon with gunshot wounds. There are also several drugs you'll be taking, to help prevent infection. The bullet did not fragment, which is good, and so did as little damage as we could have hoped for. Still bad, though, right?" he asked, grinning.

George gave him a tense smile. "Right."

Pender smiled obliviously. "Okay, well, we'll be removing the breathing tube shortly, and some of the IV lines, but you are looking at a few days in Intensive Care. I'll be your primary physician until then, so let any of the nurses know of your concerns and we'll deal with them as they come up. Alright?"

Cate blinked, and George nodded. Pender stood, smiled, and motioned for the nurse to continue. The woman waited until he was out of the room before turning a reassuring smile on to the two of them. "He's really a very good doctor. If anything happened to me, I'd want him to take care of me."

George sighed. "Thanks, uh…"

She pointed to her nametag. "Abby. I'll be here for a few more hours, and then one of the other nurses will take over. And I'll probably be here the whole time you are." She set her notepad on the counter and began to wash her hands. "Now, Mr. Weasley, there are a couple of examinations I'm going to have to do, and I'm sure your wife would appreciate it if you stepped out for a few minutes."

George stood, looking lost. "Um, yeah. Sure. I can…I can go get cleaned up. Shower, or something."

Abby nodded. "Perhaps get something to eat?"

George looked back at Cate, who was staring at him with wide blue eyes. "How long…"

Abby snapped on a pair of gloves. "Just tell the nurse's station where you're going, and leave a number. We'll call you if anything changes. Otherwise, figure half an hour. We'll let you know when it's good to come in."

"Thank you," he said, leaning over and kissing Cate gently on the cheek. She smiled up at him with her eyes, and squeezed his fingers. "Be back soon."

* * *

There was a couch set up in one corner. One of the nurses had come by with a pillow and a couple of blankets for George, and he'd made himself a nice little bed. Without asking, he laid himself out on the couch, his long legs hanging over the edge. Cate didn't mind; the drugs were making her woozy and she'd missed him. She _wanted_ him there.

It had been rather horrible, having the breathing tube removed. She was glad George wasn't there; she'd gagged and coughed, and it had hurt her stomach horribly. The nurses had been wonderful, and soon she was relaxed, sedated; the only irritation was a sore throat, and a little hoarseness in her voice.

George came back with wet hair; the nurse had immediately ushered him out of the room and ordered him to dry it; didn't he know that she could become infected from the drops of water going anywhere near any injuries? He'd soon returned, looking both sheepish and mutinous. He sat on the edge of her bed, carefully avoiding any tubing, holding her hand and telling her about all of the new jokes he'd invented. There wasn't a hint of reproach in his voice, and he'd never once said that he was mad at her, but she thought there might be a hint of blame underneath his carefree words.

She'd waited until they were sure to be alone before saying anything. "I missed you." Her voice was still hoarse, and didn't sound like her own.

He shrugged. "I missed you." He caught a glimpse of her face. "And yeah, sure, you left, but Harry explained to me what was happening, and I know you did it to protect me, but I'm a big boy; I can protect myself."

Cate shook her head. "They attacked you. I couldn't let them hurt you because of me." She looked down. "I still haven't forgiven myself for what happened to you."

George clenched his jaw. "If you'd told me everything that was going on, I might have been able to help you. I certainly wouldn't have let you be alone, ever, and I would have made sure we were both protected."

She blinked back tears and changed the subject. "Why does everyone keep calling me Mrs. Weasley? What did you tell them?"

George blushed. "You needed a next of kin, or something like that, and they wouldn't tell me anything, so I just said you were my wife. I swear, I didn't plan it, it just happened, but then I needed to make sure everything said that it was true, so I modified a couple of memories and changed your driver's license. They only let me stay here because I said I was your husband."

Cate grinned. "Well, then, I forgive you. But if my mother ever gets word…or yours! Oh, can you imagine what your mother would say if she found out?"

George stood up, horror on his face. "I…I have to…oh, Merlin's hairy balls!"

Cate laughed, and it hurt, but she didn't care. "I promise I won't tell."

They sat in companionable silence after that, with the occasional interruption by a nurse. Sometimes, she would ask him about what had happened after she left, and sometimes he would ask her, but they were mostly trying to avoid the topic.

And then, it was late. She was exhausted. She'd slept a few times during the day, but now she felt drained, and George definitely looked the same. He was laying down, arm across his eyes, looking horribly uncomfortable. Before she fell asleep, she whispered, "Hey, George?"

"Yes?" his voice was low, rough, and half-asleep.

"I'm really glad you're here with me."

He grunted. "Yeah. Me too."


	19. Chapter 19

**Fury **

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Waiting**

Cate woke to the sound of low-pitched arguing. One voice was easily recognizable as George's, and he sounded annoyed and angry. The other took a second; a woman's, she didn't recognize it until she heard the twang of the accent. Muirgan.

Muirgan was whispering furiously, and she could barely make out the words. "If you are her husband, as the nurses out there seem to think, then we do have a problem. She requested asylum…from _you_!"

George was whispering, too, but his voice held that lazy annoyance that sent shivers up her spine. "And, if you would just listen, I could explain all of that…"

Muirgan cut him off, her drawl extremely thick as she grew angrier. "I don't want to hear it!" she hissed.

Cate pushed herself up. "Perhaps you should, Muirgan. It might help."

George gave her a relieved grin. "You're awake."

Cate smirked. "I should hope so. Otherwise, this is a very odd dream."

George took a step towards the bed, reaching out his hand, but Muirgan inserted herself between the two of them, trying to look threatening. She barely reached George's shoulder, but he still took a step back, looking surprised.

Cate sighed. "Muirgan, its fine. He didn't hurt me."

The other woman turned, raising an eyebrow and glancing pointedly at her side. Cate shook her head. "It's not his fault I was shot."

George winced. "Actually, it might be."

Both women looked at him, Cate confused and Muirgan triumphant. Muirgan pointed at the door, saying, "Now, get out!"

Cate grabbed the back of Muirgan's shirt. "No. George stays." She looked in his eyes, seeing the hurt and anger warring there. "What do you mean, it's your fault?"

George looked at his feet, saying, quietly, "Didn't you wonder how I found you? I was sent a picture from your café, a Muggle photo, and found out where it was. I left in a rush; I didn't even think to hide where I was going from anyone. I sent a note to your family as well."

Cate closed her eyes slowly. "It's not your fault, then. They knew where I was. They had to. No one else would shoot a silver bullet at a waitress during a robbery."

Muirgan looked ready to explode, her red hair nearly matching her red face. "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

After a long and convoluted explanation- which was interrupted by nurses, co-workers, and other, administrative types- Muirgan sank into the chair, wincing and pulling out a small gag gift from one of her friends. The toy was quickly kicked under the couch. Cate saw George's wand for a split second, and then the toy shot out from under the couch and into his pocket. Muirgan didn't notice.

"So what you're saying is, the problem is much larger than you thought, so you hid here, lied to me about why you were hiding, were found out, and shot. And now, you want to go back to England with this…person."

Cate froze. She hadn't said anything about going back to England with George. "No…"

But he interrupted. "Yes. At least there, you have family and friends that know who and what you are and can protect you. Here, you're exposed and nearly alone."

Muirgan nodded. "Absolutely. And while I can assign someone to watch over you, we don't have the resources for both a watch and a search for the perpetrators. And here, you won't be a priority." She said it bluntly, with a hint of regret. "I don't mean to be rude, but you came here looking for asylum, and while we will protect you, the heads of the departments that manage these things will look into your case at their leisure. They won't see it as a priority. And that's not a slight to them, as such; there are just cases that they'll think are more urgent." She sighed, looking at her hands. "I'm sorry."

Cate shrugged, and then winced. "It's really not your fault, is it?" She swallowed, not looking at George. "I do understand. I really do. I just…I've built a life for myself here, and I don't want to lose that. No one cares that I'm what I am and no one blames me for anything. I'm not surrounded by people staring at me when I walk down the street. I don't get fired for being what I am. And here, I don't get other people hurt."

George snorted. "Just yourself, then. That's alright, though. No one cares about you back home, so why bother coming back?" There was no trace of the humor that usually laced his tone, and Cate stared at him, taken aback. Muirgan folded her arms; for all that she barely came up to George's shoulder, she suddenly seemed bigger.

"What do you mean?" Cate asked, her voice hurt.

George shrugged. "Just thought I'd add to your little pity-party. You don't seem to care that the reason you were alone here was because_ you didn't tell anyone where you were_. Do you know how long I looked for you? I annoyed everyone, even your own family, even your _grandmother_, and she's not someone I annoy lightly. And then, when I finally find you, and you can see there's real danger in staying here, you want to stay anyway, because you don't think anyone likes you. And that's just bullshit."

Cate's eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. Muirgan had a tiny grin on her face, but was trying- and failing- to hide it. "I didn't…I didn't mean…"

George appeared to make a decision. "Do what you like. You will anyway. But I made my choice a long time ago and I'll stick with it. I didn't know you long, and I still don't know you as well as I'd like to, but I know I want to stay with you and protect you, and just be with you. So, whatever you do, I'm with you. Forever."

Cate gasped. "If…" she began, stuttering slightly. "If I stay here, you'll stay with me?"

He gave her a short, sharp nod. "And if you go, I'll go with you. Hell, I didn't clean out any of your things; you could move right back in, and things will go back to the way they were. Only this time, people will know that something's wrong, and they'll want to help you." He raised an eyebrow. "So, what do you say?"

Muirgan reached over and touched her arm. "Whatever choice you make, know you can always change your mind later. This isn't a forever thing."

Cate looked at her friend, and then grinned. She turned to George, and his face, so familiar and yet so changed, stared back at her, the serious expression looking so out of place. "It is for me." She took a deep breath. "I'm going home. With you."

* * *

Once she'd made her decision, Cate was suddenly eager to get back to England. She'd missed her family more than she realized, and the food, and her friends. But she wouldn't be allowed to leave even the hospital until she recovered from the surgery, which the doctor, when he came, told her would be at least four more days.

The next four days were filled with excitement, mixed with odd moments of both terror and apathy. Muirgan came by every day, and even brought her brother for a visit once. Rol had looked over George suspiciously; after a few minutes of talking quietly in a corner and giggling under their breath, they became fast friends. Muirgan had rolled her eyes, muttering, but ignored them in favor of her friend.

The last day, before she was scheduled to be released to England, Muirgan brought three extra people with her. George had gone to the cafeteria for lunch, and then would find a shower somewhere, and wouldn't be back for another hour, at least. The women looked just like Muirgan, only taller and slightly younger; the other two were men, one in a neat suit with slicked back brown hair and brown eyes behind thin wire-frame glasses, and the other, in a similar suit, who was at least three times as broad and almost a full head taller. His face was square and angular, and his eyes, sharp hazel, gave him the look of a raptor.

Muirgan introduced them to her. The woman, with her short red hair and bright smile, was Muirgan's little sister, Caoilfhionn, who said, immediately, "Please, call me Lynn. No one calls me _that_." She was wearing a uniform, in dark blue, with several symbols of rank. When Cate rose a brow, Lynn grinned. "I'll be flying you across the pond."

Muirgan winced, but introduced the other two. The first, Graham Donahue, was the formal liaison between the Ministry of Magic in England and the Magical American Congressional Offices. He had a soft voice edged with steel, and constantly adjusted his glasses, as though uncomfortable. The other man was Robert McGregor, a Healer who would be accompanying her. Cate blinked at the overly large man; he looked more suited to playing a Bludger, but his fierce look stopped her from asking any questions.

Lynn looked at Graham and cleared her throat. "You want to explain or should I, Crusty?"

Graham shot her a look full of venom. "Not at all, Miss Mallory." He turned his sharp brown eyes to her, ignoring Lynn. "Because of this entire…situation, it was decided that the safest way to transport you back to England would be to fly you there, the Muggle way. You will be transferred to St. Mungo's, of course, and healed there. A contingent of Obliviators will be sent here after your release, and the memories of the doctors, nurses, and staff here will be modified. You will be dead, or, at least, the persona that Miss Mallory designed for you will die, of complications from your wounds."

Cate blinked. "All…right. But…"

Graham held up a hand. "This is for your protection. We have been briefed as to your particular situation, and MACO will do whatever it can to protect you while under our care. As soon as you are over the ocean, a team of Aurors will sweep your former place of employment, and the same will happen over in England. I am assured that the head investigator, a Mister Weasley, will do all that he can to find the breach, and I can give you the same assurance. Once you have landed at the base in London, Healer McGregor here will transport you to St. Mungo's, and you will meet with Mister Weasley, to discuss your options. Is anything unclear?"

Cate shook her head, overwhelmed. Lynn stepped forward, grinning impudently and patting Graham on the shoulder, hard. "Way to go, Crusty. That's why they pay you the big bucks."

Graham sneered at her. "Yes, well, not all of us can be such heroes." He said the last word like a curse, and removed her hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shrunken briefcase, expanded it to its normal size, and handed her a thin packet of papers. "Please sign and initial each page of this document, and Miss Mallory will see that everything is in order. Thank you for your services to MACO, and we hope you enjoy the rest of your day."

He shrank the briefcase again, nodded at Muirgan and the Healer, and stormed out, his brightly polished shoes clicking on the floor.

Cate stared after him in shock. Lynn laughed loudly, and, to her surprise, so did the Healer, with a booming sound that filled the room.

Robert grinned at Lynn, and while it didn't make him more handsome, it added a layer of humanity to his rough exterior. "Crusty?"

Lynn giggled. "Sorry to say, not my idea. We called him Cracker for a while, but that didn't really suit, so we kept trying new stuff until Alison thought up pie crusts."

Robert interrupted. "She would."

Lynn laughed. "I know, right? So we've been calling him Crusty since he was fourteen, and it still bothers him. You'd think he'd have learned by now."

Muirgan cleared her throat. "Please, focus."

Cate was looking between the two of them with an incredulous expression on her face. Lynn immediately sobered, but Robert couldn't keep the grin off too long. Muirgan shook her head at her sister, then turned to Cate. "Do you have any questions?"

Cate nodded. "Why are you helping me?"

Lynn held up a finger. "I can answer that. I was asked, by my oh-so-talented big sis, to provide services that many in the magical world can't. I can fly pretty much anything, and, with Graham's help, as well as a few others across the pond, I was granted the assignment of flying you over there to one of the Air Force bases. Personally, I think the government just doesn't want you to sue."

Robert nodded. "I'd agree. And I was going to St. Mungo's for a Healer Trading Program anyway, and thought I'd help out a friend." A slight blush covered his cheeks as he looked at Lynn, and Cate grinned knowingly between the two. She could see _something_ between them.

Lynn appeared oblivious. "Well, I think it's sweet that you and Muirgan are still close after all these years, Robbie."

Cate blinked, and then burst into laughter, ignoring the pain in her side.

* * *

George had walked into the laughter, was introduced to everyone, and then politely asked them to give him some time alone with her. Lynn and Robert left immediately, saying they'd see her the next day, but Muirgan stayed long enough to help with the paperwork and then promised to be there early, before everything started.

And, finally, she was alone with him, as she hadn't really been since she decided to go back with him. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful of all the tubes and wires, and grabbed her hand, a somber expression on his face.

"You're sure about this?"

Cate smiled. "Of course. I made this choice a long time ago, and I can't wait to go back." She looked at her hand in his, and blinked back tears. "I can't wait to be back with…with you," she whispered.

He leaned over, tilted her head up, and kissed her. She lost herself in the kiss, and a single hot tear slid down her cheek.

He pulled back, took a deep breath, and straightened. "You and I both know that once you're in England, they'll come after us again. And while I wish that wasn't true, we both know it is. I want to protect you with everything in me." He looked down, twisted something in his pocket, and mumbled, "I wish…but that doesn't matter." He gave her a soft smile, seeming lost for words.

Cate reached out and put her hand on his face. Her fingers brushed the scars around where his ear had been, and for once she didn't pull them away. He kissed her palm. Struggling, Cate sat up and pulled him towards her, ignoring, once again, the pain in her side. She kissed his forehead. "George, I just want you to know, no matter what happens, that I love you. I know we haven't known each other very long, and I know that I ran away, but that doesn't change the fact that I love you, and always will, and I have for a long time. Just, before anything else, I want you to know that."

He grinned, widely, and his eyes sparkled. "That's going to make this so much easier." He took a deep, shuddering breath, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box.

Cate gasped, eyes darting between his face and the box.

George's grin widened. "I made a choice a long time ago, too. I said that when I found you, and I would, I would kiss you, and make you forget why you'd left, and then I'd take you in my arms and give you something that would tell you that I want you to stay with me."

He got down on one knee on the floor next to her bed. She gasped and covered her mouth. With the symphony of beeps and noises from the machines that were monitoring her condition in the background, he opened the box, grinning, and said, "Will you marry me?"

* * *

Caoilfhionn- kway-linn. Updated as of October 2011.


	20. Chapter 20

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty**

**First Day**

Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy-Who-Lived, wiped snot off of his sleeve and made a face at his little son, who chose that very moment to make an ominous burp. Harry's face changed as well, into something akin to panic, and his voice was nearly an octave higher than normal as he called, "Ginny!"

Al burped again, and then, as predicted, proceeded to spew the entire contents of his stomach onto his father's last semi-clean work robe. Today was the absolute last day that he needed this. "Ginny!" he called again, a note of panic in his voice as Al began to hiccup and cry.

His wife rushed to the door, holding a restless James who was, somehow, wearing one shoe and sock, but not the other. James pushed against Ginny's chest, trying to get down, but she wouldn't let him go; she didn't even seem to be paying attention. "What, Harry?" she asked, her voice full of exasperation.

Harry held out Al, who was still crying. "He threw up on my last set of clean robes."

Ginny raised a brow, still struggling with James. "And what would you like me to do about it, Harry?" There was a dangerous edge to her voice, one he recognized, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Can you throw them in the wash?" The second the words were out, he hurried to add, "I'll get James ready…"

She thrust the toddler at him, and now he had to juggle Al in one arm and James in the other. She held out her hand, a smirk on her face. "Robes?"

He stared at her helplessly, and she burst into giggles. Al, recognizing them, whined for her, holding out his chubby arms, while James grabbed Harry's glasses and immediately put them in his mouth.

"James!"

Harry tried to get his glasses from his son, but couldn't manage with both boys. Ginny took pity on his, took his glasses out of James' mouth, and pulled Al into her arms. "Give me your robes, Harry. I'll take care of them. Jamie's other shoe is somewhere under the bed. I don't know where he put the other sock."

Harry closed his eyes for a second. "Right."

Five minutes later, a dressed and now screaming James was crawling over Harry's head, trying to get at the dog, who was barking excitedly. Too excitedly.

"Snuffles, no!"

But it was far too late. The dog, over-stimulated, hunched on the rug in the middle of the kitchen and proceeded to do what they'd been trying to train him not to. Finished, the black dog ran over the carpet and jumped on Harry, trying to get to his favorite playmate.

Ginny walked in just in time to see Harry swat Snuffles down, wet paw prints on his formerly clean white shirt. He glanced up at her, and she nearly slid down the wall laughing. He barked a laugh of his own, threw his arms in the air, and walked James to the playpen in the corner of the kitchen. He lifted the dog into the pen as well. Ginny couldn't help giggling as she put Al in his own pen; he was too little to play with the dog. "Why don't you call the office and tell them you'll be late?" she asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

Harry gave her a look that told her what he thought of that. "And be the laughingstock of the department on my first day?"

She handed Al his block set. "It's hardly your first day, love."

He grunted, pulling off his tie and then beginning to unbutton his shirt. "You know very well what I mean."

She grinned, sidling up to him. "Of course."

She ran her hands up his chest under the muddy shirt. "You should probably throw this in the wash, too."

Harry swallowed. "Yeah. Probably." Suddenly the shrieks of the kids were no longer as important. Neither was being late.

She raised an eyebrow. "And you should wait for your robes to come out of the laundry."

He nodded. "Uh huh."

She pressed closer, putting her mouth on his neck. "And…"

"Bloody hell, Gin!"

They leapt apart quickly. Ron's head hovered in the fireplace, a looked of shocked disgust on his face. "That's my baby sister, mate!"

"And my wife, tosser!" Harry growled, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it towards the laundry room. "What do you need this early, Ron?"

Ginny, still blushing and flustered, added, "And do you want something to eat? I think I've got toast ready, if you want."

Ron's grin widened. "Marmalade too, if you've got it, Gin. I thought you'd be ready to go by now," he said, looking at Harry as he searched through the laundry for a clean shirt. "First day and all."

Ginny giggled behind him, slathering marmalade on a large, nearly burnt piece of toast. "Harry thought he'd help me out this morning."

Ron shook his head. "Why'd you go and do something like that, mate?" Harry didn't answer, just glared at his best friend and walked out of the room. Ron looked at his sister. "What happened?"

Ginny speared the fork on a toasting stick and put it in the fire. Ron took a bit, moaning in delight. "Al threw up on his last set of clean robes, and then James tried to eat his glasses. Oh, and Snuffles isn't quite house-trained yet. He ran through the mess and jumped on Harry."

Ron choked on the bite of toast. "Always good for a laugh, our Harry."

Harry walked back into the room, pulling his shirt closed and working on the buttons. "Was there something you wanted, or are you just here to eat us out of house and home?"

Ron shook his head, swallowed, and said, "No. Just wanted to remind you about that thing that's happening today. The timetable's been updated; they should arrive around four."

Harry frowned. "Isn't that a bit earlier than we were expecting?"

Ron took another bite. "Yeah. Bit eager, aren't they? Anyway, boss wants us in quick you can because we're to be debriefed. Though it looks like Ginny got the message early, too."

Both Harry and Ginny blushed. Harry thrust the remainder of the toast in Ron's mouth and growled. "I'll see you there in ten minutes."

Ron grinned. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, mate. And remember: she's my sister. If you get her in trouble, I'll have to take you down."

Harry shoved his head back into the flames. "Like to see you try. See you, mate. Say hi to Hermione and Rose for me."

Ron mock-saluted him. "Aye, aye, boss."

The flames puffed green for a second, and Ron was gone. Ginny came into the room and handed him his still-steaming robes. "Here you go, love." She kissed his cheek quickly. "What was Ron talking about? Who's coming?"

Harry shrugged the robes on, wincing at the heat. "Can't say. Top secret thing, and all that." He took a deep breath, then kissed each of the boys on the head, barely making James as the dog decided he wanted to join in. Then he gave Ginny a kiss that made her blush brilliant red, and whispered something to her. She giggled.

He strode over to the door, pulling out his wand. "Bye boys!"

James popped up over the side of the pen. "Bye, Daddy!" Al just cooed.

Ginny waved her fingers at him. "Be safe. We'll celebrate tonight." She winked.

Harry grinned at her. "Be home quick as I can!"

And then he Apparated away.

* * *

Harry arrived at his office just as the clock struck 8:30. Ron was sitting in one of his surprisingly comfortable wooden chairs, his long legs resting on the edge of the desk. His robes were slightly wrinkled, and he was blushing madly.

Harry grinned. "Eventful morning, eh?" he asked, sitting in the chair behind his massive desk, and making a mental note to requisition a new one.

Ron shrugged. "Not as much as yours, I gather, but still. You ready for this?"

Harry frowned. "For what? The big chair? I've been ready since the moment they told me about this four months ago. Are you ready?"

Ron pulled his legs off of the desk. "For what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For me to be the boss, of course. We've been partners for what, five years?"

"Longer than that, mate, to be honest. And you've kind of always been the boss." Ron sat forward, grinning broadly. "Besides, as my best mate, you've got to show me a bit of favoritism. That's part of the job."

Harry reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a quill, neatly engraved with the words, 'Harry Potter, Head of Auror Department'. He handed it to Ron. "Well then. For your first assignment, I need all of the paperwork for the special event happening this afternoon. And I'll need it at least an hour before they arrive. Procedure, you know."

Ron stared at him, mouth hanging open and quill held loosely in his fingers. "You're serious?"

Harry leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. "We can't all have the glamorous jobs, can we, mate?"

* * *

For the first day as the boss, this wasn't so bad, Harry thought later as he signed off on another round of paperwork. Sure, there was a lot of reading, and so far not a lot of action, but it was what he had always wanted. And true, there wasn't Ron sitting across from him, like he'd always dreamed, but even being the Savior of the Wizarding World didn't get you everything. He'd already sent out two teams of Aurors to track down some wrongdoing near the border of Wales, and then another to northern England to see if the reports of a Death Eater near Scotland were true. And while, yes, he'd have liked to leave the office once in a while, that was what being a boss was, right?

When it came time for lunch, he met Ron in the cafeteria, as always, and, no, Hermione wasn't there, but she was taking time off of work to be with Rose right now. And Ginny…she was far too busy with the boys right now, and she had a major deadline for the paper coming up in a couple of days. He had promised to watch the kids tomorrow so she could attend the Harpies match; he'd have to remember to put that on his calendar.

Ron ate with his usual single-mindedness, demolishing several sandwiches and whatever else he had brought. Harry picked at his food, thoughts whirling around, until Ron flicked a pea at his head.

Harry looked up. "Hey!"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"

Harry shrugged. "Loads of paperwork, top secret thing tonight." He sighed. "I sent out three teams today to check out disturbances, and all I could think was, yesterday, that'd be us." He took a bite of his treacle tart; Ginny had sent it with special, and had worked hard on it.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but Robards wouldn't have given you the job if he didn't think you could do it. And it's not like he's not around to help out; I think he'll have to have all of his limbs removed before he actually retires. You should ask for some advice."

Harry grinned at his friend. "And admit that I don't think I'm cut out for the job? I don't think so."

Ron took another bite, and surreptitiously flicked another pea at Harry, who batted it away. "But Robards told you to ask for help. Even said he wished he had a mentor when he took the job. And, he's still in charge of the mission tonight, and a couple of the ongoing investigations, so its not like you can't take him to the side and ask him anything."

Harry nodded. "Alright, alright. I get it." He finished the treacle tart, then looked at his remaining lunch, handing Ron the carrots and starting on another sandwich. "Just, don't tell anyone I have doubts, right?"

Ron bit into a carrot. "Can't have them thinking the Great Harry Potter is human, right?"

Harry grinned around his food. "Exactly."

* * *

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little annoyed, though his annoyance at the fact was another source of an even greater annoyance. He'd been hoping nothing would go wrong, and yet…somehow, in his mind, he had planned for something, anything, to go horribly, hideously wrong, and he'd be able to save the day from his now prominent position. Hermione would have called it his saving-people thing coming out again, but Harry hoped not; he loved to prove her wrong.

Before he knew what had hit him, Ron was standing in his doorway, tapping his watch and looking at Harry with a roguish grin. "Showtime."

Harry groaned as he stood and stretched. "Four already?" he asked, cracking his neck.

Ron shrugged. "Unless my watch, your clock, and every other timepiece in this office is wrong, then yeah. Not that that hasn't happened before, of course, but Robards fired Liu after that little incident." Ron shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "And it's not like we haven't played with time before."

Harry slapped his head as he walked through the door. "You ready for this?" he asked seriously, slipping his robes over his uniform. Ron was heavily invested in this project, after all.

"Yeah, and with Robards there, you should be, too. I fully expect him to have something to say." Ron's serious expression belied his teasing tone.

Harry winced. "Almost forgot about that for a second. Thanks, mate."

Ron slapped him on the back. "Not a problem."

They reached the Apparition point in the office, and Disapparated at the same time.

* * *

Immediately upon arrival, Harry pulled his robes closed tight. The wind was nasty, and there was a wet feel in the air that said that rain wasn't far behind. He turned to Ron, frowning. "You sure they're coming in this weather?"

Ron nodded. "For sure, they said. And Robards would have sent an update if anything changed."

Harry shrugged. "Well, then, let's not be the last to the party."

Ron grinned, drawing his wand and sliding it up his sleeve. "After you, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes, and walked towards the rendezvous point, his own wand gripped tightly in his otherwise relaxed body.

* * *

According to Robards, there was a delay, but it was only a few minutes; he hadn't felt it necessary to update them until they arrived because it would give them time to talk. And, with Ron grinning behind him, Harry was regaled with all the ways in which he had, today, messed up. Of course, nothing was seriously wrong, and wouldn't be for quite some time, but if he kept up the way he had today…Robards was trying to be conciliatory, but, even though he had technically retired, it hadn't really been his choice, and didn't Harry see that while, yes, he would do a good job _eventually_, Robards really should keep the position for a couple more years. Five, tops, though he wasn't averse to having Harry get a bit more seasoned, and was willing to hold the position for another ten.

Ron was, by now, laughing hysterically and silently, while the three others who had accompanied Robards were doing the same to varying degrees of success. Harry politely but firmly rejected Robards' offer, telling him how generous it was, and would he, Gawain, mind coming into the office a couple of times a week for the next month or so to help with the transition. Robards said he'd Floo Harry's secretary.

Harry was stunned.

"You had a secretary?" he asked, trying desperately to think of who that could have been.

Robards lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, of course. All Head positions do. Yours wasn't in?"

Harry shrugged. "Obviously not."

Robards gave him a smirking grin. "You know, if _I_ had been there…"

Harry forced a smile, though he knew it looked terrible. "Well, done is done. I'll look into it, Gawain. Thanks for the help. Is that them I hear?"

Gawain was sufficiently distracted, and shielded his eyes against the rain. "I believe so. I brought along a Healer to escort them to St. Mungo's, as well as a liaison from the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Transportation."

Harry gave him a tight smile. "Thank you, Gawain."

Robards didn't seem to notice the sarcasm. "Like I said, Harry, I'd like to help you out as much as I can."

Harry didn't respond, all of his attention on the plane currently flying slowly towards them. It was a small plane, with a sharp point and slanted wings. They watched it descend and land with no problems, and taxi to a stop near them. There was a long pause before the door opened, and a longer wait while a stair lift was moved to the door. Harry could just make out the figures of a small number of people coming down the stairs, one with help.

The first two people to make it to the group were dressed in uniform. The taller, a woman with long red hair tied back tightly in a braid, thrust out a hand and said, with a considerable drawl, "Captain Caoilfhionn Mallory, sir, and my co-pilot, First Lieutenant Kevin Able."

Harry shook her hand, smiling, as well as the lieutenant's. "Welcome to Britain. How long are you planning to stay, Captain?"

She shrugged. "Refuel shouldn't take too long, but I've got a need to be elsewhere for a bit. Two days?" she said, looking at her lieutenant.

The other man, shorter but much broader, grinned. "Give or take. Don't have to be back on base until Thursday. Strictly speaking, ma'am."

The captain turned to Harry. "Until Wednesday, then. If that's alright with you, of course."

Gawain stepped forward. "All requests and the necessary paperwork can be filed with these two individuals. Mr. Sendhil Shabur, from the Department of Magical Transportation, and Ms. Jacqueline Smith, from the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

The captain shook their hands. "And you are?" she drawled, glancing between Gawain and Harry, and taking in Ron as well.

Harry stepped forward, cutting Gawain off. "Harry Potter, Head of the Auror Department. At your service. These are my associates," he added, nodding towards Gawain and Ron. "Gawain Robards, and Ron Weasley. He's been your liaison for this little adventure."

Caoilfhionn grinned. "Weasley? Related to George, by any chance?" Ron gave her a dumb nod, looking between her and the plane. "Boy, are you in for a treat."

She turned to look at the couple coming out of the plane. Harry couldn't help but look, either.

They made a striking pair, the two of them: George, the tall redhead with his arm around the slightly shorter, limping Cate, with her long dark hair tied back from a bruised and tired face. When they finally made it to the greeting party, Ron stepped forward and, throwing all propriety out the window, hugged his brother, slapping him on the back. If Gawain hadn't been there, Harry might have done the same.

George put his arm back around Cate, who was grinning widely at everyone. "Hey, Ronniekins, Harry." Ron blushed. "Nice to feel welcome. Considering…"

He held up Cate's hand, where they could see a glittering diamond ring. "Everyone, say hello to Cate Weasley." Harry froze, and Ron's grin did the same. "My wife."

"Mum's going to have a fit." Ron said, his eyes locked on George's.

Harry suppressed his not insignificant surprise, and gently pulled Cate into a hug. "Welcome to the family." He smiled at her, a near smirk. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	21. Chapter 21

**Fury **

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Welcome to the Family**

Cate sat in the backseat of the Ministry car that was taking them to the Leaky Cauldron with George on one side, Harry on the other, and Ron to the right of George. They'd already been to St. Mungo's, where, with a few quick spells, she'd been healed, though the scars couldn't be removed. The Healer had been a bit curt with her, and had agreed with the Healers from America; they would send a report back indicating that they'd received her treatment information and would continue it. From there, the Muggle paperwork would show that she'd been treated the Muggle way, and then she'd disappear. She wasn't sure how she felt about that; the doctors and nurses at the hospital had been wonderful, and didn't deserve to be lied to.

The backseat of the car was large, with plenty of room for everyone; George had his arm over her shoulder, the dull gold of his ring catching the late afternoon light. Ron was throwing the two of them looks, ranging from furious to incredulous. Harry was keeping up a light commentary, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

Harry gave them all the Weasley news; she quickly realized that it was mostly for her benefit, but found George listening as patiently as if he hadn't known.

Bill and Fleur would be celebrating their tenth anniversary in a few days, and Molly was running around like a madwoman, planning a large party that she guaranteed Fleur would be the grandest thing she had ever seen. They had welcomed another child, a boy, Louis, who had been born at the beginning of February, bringing their total to three. Harry pulled out pictures of the little boy being held by his sisters, who were seven and three. Cate cooed over the adorable little boy, who had a shock of violently red hair, contrasting with his very blond sisters.

Charlie was doing well, too, she was told, and had informed his mother that he would be bringing a special guest to the party. Molly thought that perhaps he finally had a girlfriend; Ron and George were betting that it was actually a boyfriend, but didn't let Molly hear. Harry personally had no opinion, but Ron and George began to bicker over the bet. Cate finally stepped in, saying George's name in a quiet voice that caused him to shut up immediately. Harry thanked her gratefully, while Ron whispered something in his brother's ear that caused a small fistfight to break out. She switched sides with George, and asked Harry to please continue.

Percy had gotten married, and had welcomed a daughter, Molly, who adored her grandmother and had her mother's personality, something that George snorted at and Ron outright laughed. Audrey had made herself welcome in the family, and was often at the Burrow, learning cooking tips from Molly (Ron mumbled that she needed them) and taking advantage of her babysitting while she returned to work. Percy, of course, had become even more pompous, lording his so-called perfect child and family over his brothers, who refused to listen.

Harry told her about his own family, about his two sons, the youngest only six months old, and Ginny's job at the Prophet covering Quidditch, and his new promotion to Head of the Auror Division.

Cate seized on the topic, fascinated. "Really? When did you start?"

George grinned as well, nudging his brother-in-law in the ribs. "Yeah. I didn't hear about this, did I?"

Harry blushed slightly. "Incidentally, _Cate_, I started today. This morning, in fact."

Ron snorted. "Almost late, he was. Something about having to make time for Ginny in the morning. And them with a new baby and all."

George raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. Isn't Rose about five months old, now?"

Ron's blush went right to his ears. "Nearly." He grinned at Cate. "Want to see a picture?"

Cate nodded, dumbfounded. "You have a daughter as well?" she asked, taking the fat wallet of photos of a chubby, curly-haired baby with dimples and a wicked grin.

Ron nodded proudly. "Like he said, she's almost five months old. Hermione's staying home with her for a while, but she's working from home right now. Something about magical creature restrictions, and the laws expiring. I wasn't really listening, to be honest."

Cate was curious, but knew she'd have to get the information directly from Hermione. "So, does your mum know we're coming?" she asked timidly, taking a second to squeeze George's hand. "I feel a bit selfish…"

Harry gave her a tight smile. "No one knows. After everything that's been going on with you two, we thought we'd make your arrival a bit of a secret. If anything happens before it becomes public information, we'll know that the few people who do already know are compromised. And that's valuable information."

George pulled her closer. "Then we're going to the Leaky Cauldron because…"

Ron leaned forward, looking his brother in the eye. "It's the nearest place to St. Mungo's with Floo access. And there's a private entrance. After Tom retired…"

Cate frowned. "Tom retired?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. About a year ago. Anyway, after Tom retired, Neville and Hannah bought the place, and they've added some features to the old girl that make it much easier to slip in and out, if you know where to go and who to ask."

Cate raised an eyebrow. "Neville and Hannah? Longbottom?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah. It's pretty cool, if you ask me. And they seem to enjoy it."

Harry grinned. "Anyway, we'll Floo from the Leaky Cauldron to Burrow. It's a surprise, so I asked Bill to have Molly outside for a little bit, so we can arrive and get cleaned up. She's throwing a big dinner tonight anyway, to celebrate the promotion. So she'll definitely have enough food."

Cate nodded thoughtfully. "And…and my family? When can I see them?"

George squeezed her hand. "We'll go talk to your parents and grandmother tomorrow. Let them in on the big secret. Won't they be surprised?"

Harry winced. "Actually…"

Cate frowned. "What?"

"Well, they haven't been told that you were coming back into the country. We'll have to contact them beforehand, make sure that they're home, that kind of thing." Harry watched her face the entire time he was speaking, but his eyes occasionally darted to George's face.

Cate scowled at George. "What did you do?"

George gave her a weak smile. "Now's not the time to talk about it, dear."

Cate squeezed his fingers tightly, and he winced. "Later, then, _darling_."

George smiled at Harry and Ron, trying to loosen her hold. "Women, eh?"

Harry and Ron both looked out of the windows, trying to hide their grins.

* * *

The entrance of the Leaky Cauldron looked exactly the same, and she didn't care what Ron, George, or Harry said to the contrary. It was still hidden from Muggles, squeezed between a music store and a bookshop. She couldn't see any alterations at all; even the sign was the same.

But then Harry led her into the bookshop. She almost kept walking straight, but George tugged gently on her arm. They walked through the narrow aisles (George brushed books on either side, and she was hard-pressed not to do the same. The labels indicated that they passed through World History, British History, Biographies, and then, finally, into the Astrophysics and Astronomy sections. They saw one person then, and it was clearly a clerk, wearing the uniform and looking up at them hopefully. He started forward, but suddenly seemed to think better of it, turning on his heel and walking through the slightly wider aisles to the front of the store.

Cate was drawn to the images on the covers of the Astronomy books, but George, giving her a nudge, pushed her in the direction of a small door set in the bookshelves.

Harry leaned over to her and whispered, "Don't tell anyone about this, Cate. This is for high-profile personages only, and not to be used for trifling matters. If you can't handle this secret, let me know, and we'll get an Obliviator down here and make sure."

Realizing, for the first time, just how serious this was, Cate nodded mutely, stung slightly that they thought she couldn't keep a secret.

The small door wasn't as narrow as it looked, and led into a passageway that must have been behind the bar. There were tiny peepholes, just below her eye level, that looked in all directions around the main floor of the pub. She followed Harry and Ron up a flight of stairs that were very nearly pitch black, and down another corridor to a dead end. There was a door in the wall, and another peep hole beside it.

Ron looked in the room quickly and Harry cast a spell. In seconds, they had pushed the door open and ushered her into the room. George closed the door behind them, and, had she not known it was there, she would never have seen it. It was further obscured by an ancient tapestry of women sitting around a loom, weaving. She could hear the faint giggles of the figures as they watched the four emerge, but she was soon distracted. "Where are we?" she asked, walking along the edges of the room.

Harry gave her a wide grin. "We're in what used to be one of the many parlors of the pub's owners. Neville has since converted it to a safe room. That door is one of two entrances, and both can be sealed from inside the room. There are very strong wards surrounding this place. Only Neville and Hannah can actually enter here from the other side, and if you need to get here from the front of the house, you have to be in their presence. There are a lot of safeguards to protect them, and the inhabitants of the room, from just about anything."

Cate felt a bit overwhelmed. "And you brought me here? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

Ron gave her a sobering look. "There have been some recent developments. Things we can't tell you, Cate. But just know, this isn't even as much as we could, and probably should, have done."

Harry rolled his eyes at what must have been an old argument. "Later, Ron. Let's just get them to the Burrow. Many of the wards are still there from the war; I knew there was a reason Arthur wouldn't let us take them down."

The room was basically empty, with just a couple of chairs and a large fireplace that took up most of one wall. There was a large pot on the fireplace, and, next to that, a heavy wooden box with a keyhole. Harry ignored it and handed her the pot. "I'll go first, make sure everything's clear, and then, after I give the signal, you and George will follow. Ron'll go last, make sure everything's cleaned up. Just because Neville lets us use his home for free is no reason to be slobs."

Cate just caught Ron's rude gesture out of the corner of her eye. She rolled her eyes as George laughed and shoved his little brother, who had to have been a full head taller than he was. She let them at it; George was, for the first time in a long time, genuinely happy, and she didn't want to spoil it. She'd caused much of his unhappiness, after all, and nearly all of her own.

Harry sent the signal back, saying that the coast was clear but they'd have to hurry; Molly was due back in the house at any time. The aura of merriment was sucked out of the room. George gave her a nervous smile, but she could tell his stomach was churning. He hesitated a moment too long; Ron smirked and tossed in the handful of Floo powder.

"Well?" Ron asked, his brow raised.

George gave his younger brother a glare, his usual good humor lost under all the nerves. "You want to be the one to surprise Mum like this, Ronniekins?" he asked acidly.

Ron shook his head. "Not my problem, George. Should have thought ahead, right?"

Cate rolled her eyes. "Boys." She kissed George on the cheek. "We'll be fine. Your mum'll be really pleased. Trust me."

George forced a smile, and stepped into the green flames. "The Burrow!"

Cate and Ron waited as the flames slowly changed back. Cate didn't look at Ron as he said, "Mum will be extremely annoyed, you know."

Cate winced. "I know. Mine as well. I just…"

"Lied?"

Cate turned to Ron and glared. "Not…really. She'll be pleased eventually. I'm sure."

Ron grinned, tossing in another handful of Floo powder. "Your turn."

* * *

Cate stepped clumsily out of the fire, crashing into George, who stood frozen. She fell to the ground, and, when he made no move to help her up, pushed herself to her feet, brushing off the soot that clung to her robes.

"Move, you lazy sod," she muttered, pushing him forward, but he merely took a step and swayed. She glanced at his face, frozen in a mixture of fear and determination, and knew, somehow, what he was looking at.

Molly Weasley stood in the doorway, as frozen as her son. Harry was in front of her, half-blocking her way, but looked as though he had no idea what to do.

No one moved or said anything until the worst possible thing happened.

The fire whooshed behind her, and Ron tumbled out gracelessly, barreling into both Cate and George's legs. They lay there on the ground, untangling limbs and stepping on toes, before Ron noticed Harry staring at the group with an expression of horror and amusement. He glanced at his brother and helped Cate to her feet.

Ron looked between the couple and Molly, who was getting redder by the minute. His ears turned red. "What, did you tell Mum already? I thought you were going to wait."

George closed his eyes, and Harry choked. Cate groaned. "We were, idiot."

Molly swelled like a balloon. "What do you need to tell me, George?" she whispered, her voice harsh and quiet in the suddenly airless kitchen.

"Good going, Ron." Harry muttered.

George paused, frozen, before taking Cate's hand. "Well, Mum, aren't you going to say hello to Cate? My wife?"

Molly turned purple. "Harry, Ron," she said, her voice surprisingly mellow. "Get out. Send your father."

Cate squeezed George's hand, suddenly wondering if it had been such a good idea after all.

* * *

Molly yelled at them until Arthur arrived. She spun away from them, frustrated. The majority of her argument seemed to be based on their suddenness and the fact that they hadn't known each other long.

"Not that we don't _like_ you, Cate, dear, but we just don't _know_ you." When Molly talked to her, her voice grew softer, somehow more pleasant, but her son wasn't so lucky."

Arthur stepped in before anything else could be said. "You wanted me, Molly?" he said, his voice hesitant.

"Did they tell you what our son did?" she asked, her voice growing louder with each word.

Arthur looked at George and Cate, still holding hands. "Which son, dearest? We have several."

There was a brief flash of pain across both George and Molly's faces, but Molly quickly covered it. "George, dear, and Cate, got married yesterday. In America."

Arthur turned to his son with a grin. "Congratulations! I wish we could have been there, but I'm sure you knew what you were doing." There was the hint of a reprimand, but he seemed genuinely happy for them.

Cate gave him a wide grin. "We did," she said, squeezing George's hand. "And we did want you there, but there was no time to summon anyone. And," she added, glancing around the room, "We didn't have any time to celebrate. We came straight here from the airport."

Arthur's eyes glowed. "Did you fly in an airplane? With Muggles?" He moved to Cate's side, and she began to tell him all about their trip, leaving out no detail. They walked outside, still talking, and leaving Molly alone with George.

George moved closer to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mum. We really did want to tell you. But if we had had to wait for you and Dad and the others to arrive, and for her family as well, there was a chance that she might get hurt again. I couldn't let that happen. And we did come straight here. We haven't even told her family yet."

Molly stared at her son's face, lips pursed. "Are you happy?" she asked seriously, the anger completely gone from her voice.

George grinned widely. "Oh, yes. She makes me very happy."

* * *

George's brothers and sister made her feel very welcome. All but Charlie had arrived, and they had brought their significant others and children along, in a typical Weasley celebration. There were long tables full of food, and a long, crooked table with place settings and chairs. She could see Ron adding another place, Hermione speaking quietly to him, holding a chubby, red-headed baby with dimples and freckles.

Cate had a sudden vision of herself, holding George's child, but banished it away. With her curse, it was unlikely that they would have any children at all.

When Molly and George came out a moment later, they all took their seats. She'd been greeted by everyone, of course, but no one said anything else; even Ron was mute on the subject, feeding baby Rose on his lap and catching bites in between. Harry and Ginny sat across from them, each dangling a small child. James seemed to want to shove his mashed potatoes in his brother's face, while little Albus was drooling on his mother's shirt, happily eating mashed peas. Bill and Fleur were near the head of the table, by Molly and Arthur, with two beautiful little girls, both eating neatly and dressed in white, and a baby boy, sound asleep in his mother's arms. Percy sat next to Bill, and Audrey was with him; they held their own daughter, who was also asleep, but wearing most of her meal. Then came Ron, and Hermione; she and George were seated near the end, with an extra chair to the side.

The meal was nearly over when Molly cleared her throat. "Well, I don't know what happened to Charlie, but George has something to say."

George stared at his mother, at a loss for words. "Um, thank you, Mum. Everyone," and here, Harry and Ron wouldn't meet his eyes. "I have an announcement."

"Mum already told us that. Get on with it!" She'd never really spoken much to Bill, but she suddenly had a vision of what he had been like when he was younger- a taller, thinner George.

George gave his brother a glare that just caused him to laugh. "Anyway, you know I was out in America, looking for Cate…"

Percy straightened his glasses. "We do now."

George blushed a furious red. "Anyway, while we were there, we decided… I mean, I asked… We're married."

There was a sudden hush over the table as every head turned to face Molly. She sighed, and said, "Congratulations, George. Cate, welcome to the family."

There was a burst of congratulations and conversation, and no one really noticed when Charlie popped into the garden. He glanced around at all of the chaos and nearly turned around when Arthur caught sight of him.

"Charlie!" he called out. "We're having a celebration!"

Molly rushed to her son's side. "Yes. Not only did Harry get promoted, but George married Cate in America yesterday."

Charlie gave her a sickly grin. "And I have another surprise for you, Mum." He looked down pointedly. "Now, I just found out myself, or I would have told you sooner…"

He pulled back a blanket, revealing a small girl, sleeping soundly in his arms. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Rhiannon."


	22. Chapter 22

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Family Ties**

Cate and George stumbled through fireplace into their flat, still grinning.

"Thank Merlin for Charlie!" George yelled, giggling. "I could have kissed him!"

Cate leaned against him, doing her best to hold him upright. "I think your mum was about to keel over when he popped in. At least we weren't the newest and best thing there. Rhiannon is adorable, though, isn't she?"

George's flushed face glowed in the low candle light. "Absolutely. Looks very much not like Charlie."

Cate smacked him across the chest and helped him into their bedroom. "Now, Mr. Weasley, let's get you to bed."

George gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and flopped onto the bed, sprawling as he went, so that one foot, still in its shoe, was on the floor, and the other, completely bare, wiggled suggestively. "Is that a promise, Mrs. Weasley? I'll hold you to it."

Cate couldn't help but laugh, and jumped on him, tickling and being tickled, until the laughter turned into moans.

* * *

Molly had taken Charlie immediately to one side, and dragged Arthur over as well. She'd cooed over the toddler- Charlie told them the girl was two, give or take a month or so- and then had handed her over into the only open female hands- Cate.

Cate looked down at the beautiful child with curly red hair, a remarkably round face, and brilliant brown eyes, and suddenly, this wasn't Charlie's daughter- it was hers and George's, and her heart melted. But the little girl- Rhiannon, a very Welsh name that she'd have to ask about- was afraid of all the strangers and seemed to find Cate comforting. She buried her face in Cate's shoulder, leaving her in an awkward position.

George put his hand on her hip, letting her know that he was there, all the while distracting the others with tales of his trip to America, most embellished, but surprisingly not all. Cate hummed to the little girl, who now had tears in her eyes, and rocked her gently. And then little James, with his own curly red hair and bright brown eyes, tugged on Cate's pant leg.

"Auntie Cate?" he asked, his voice sweetly lisping. "Who's that?"

Cate felt a rush of warmth toward the little boy, and pride for suddenly being an 'auntie'. "Well, James, this is your new cousin, Rhiannon." She leaned over, so both toddlers could see. "Rhiannon, this is your cousin James. He's very nice."

James blinked up that the girl. "Hello, Ree," he said, waving.

Rhiannon looked down, still pressed against Cate's shoulder. "Hi, James," she whispered.

James frowned suddenly. "You want to go play? Daddy gave me his wand."

Rhiannon nodded, and Cate set her down. The two looked at each other for a little bit before running off under the table. Harry grinned, then reached into his back pocket. His grin dissolved, and he dove under the table after his son. "James!"

Of course, no one helped, not even Ginny, but Harry was able to wrestle his wand away, leaving the two talking animatedly and giggling under the tablecloth.

George put his arm casually around Cate's shoulders. "So, then…"

And, before he could finish, Cate was pulled away by the woman, leaving George to the tender mercies of his brothers.

* * *

Cate was huddled around one end of the table, being grilled with questions. What was it like, the wedding? Was it Muggle or Magical? What had she worn? Flowers? Who witnessed? She could barely get a word in between the questions, but everyone was talking and laughing, so she didn't really care. And James and Rhiannon had moved their game, whatever it was, to their end of the table. Occasionally, they would grab at her pants and shirt, but it seemed like part of the game.

She could just make out George, away from the house, and his brothers. Their talk seemed a bit rougher than hers, but there was a lot of laughing and ribbing, and that was fine, too.

Molly and Arthur joined them shortly after. Molly still looked furious, glaring at her second son as he walked away towards his brothers, but also at peace, which seemed to Cate an odd contradiction. Arthur didn't seem to mind being in the middle of all the woman. He just took two of his grandchildren and made faces at them, ignoring, for the most part, the conversation flowing around him. Molly added her own questions to the cacophony, and, by the time everyone was satisfied, had begun to plan, for next weekend, a wedding reception for nearly a hundred guests.

Cate felt totally overwhelmed until Rhiannon crawled into her lap, snuggled against her, and fell soundly asleep, leaving James to create havoc for his mother. She rocked the little girl unconsciously, still talking, and watched the boys go deeper into shadow, and the joking become rougher. Ron tackled George, and Bill soon followed, grabbing Charlie in a stranglehold while the shorter, stockier man tried to do the same to him. Percy stood to one side, frowning, until James, unseen by anyone else, threw a handful of mud at the back of his head. Percy spun in horror, and took another handful to the face. Harry grabbed his son and ran him back to Ginny, grinning, but the boys had taken on the idea in full force. Soon, mud and water flew everywhere.

Molly glanced at her sons every so often, but didn't try to stop them. Indeed, she had a large grin on her face as well. It was only when the children started dropping like flies that she went over to put an end to it, marching over with wand in hand and spraying them with icy water. The woman felt into their chairs, laughing, as the boys walked past Molly, soaked and mud splattered, but all grinning.

Percy and Audrey were the first to go after that, taking little Molly and Apparating away after saying goodbye. Audrey left Cate with a slip of paper, the name of their house written on it, and a promise to call soon so they could get to know one another.

Bill and Fleur were next, with a great deal of teasing by the remaining brothers. But though Bill begged slightly, Fleur would have none of it, and packed away their daughters' things for the short Apparation home. Bill gave Charlie a hearty slap on the back, and Fleur kissed Cate on both cheeks, welcoming her to the family. Bill also gave George a gruff handshake, and ruffled Ron's hair, though his much younger brother was taller than he was. They Apparated with grins and waves, and the house seemed dimmer for their leaving.

Charlie took Rhiannon from Cate and brought her into the house. He'd be staying there for a week or so, while taking his vacation from work, and Molly was both annoyed and thrilled. He kissed Cate, punched George in the arm, and waited while they both said goodbye to the sleepy toddler.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny all left together, laughing and trying to be quiet, but just before Ron left, George pelted him with a handful of slimy mud. Ron threw his brother a disgusted look as Hermione began to berate him, all the while laughing hysterically. Harry and Ginny wisely stayed out of it, though Cate saw Ginny do _something_ to the mud with her wand.

That left George and Cate alone with Molly and Arthur. Arthur threw his arms around her, and welcomed her wholeheartedly to the family, saying that he had never seen his son happier than with her, and that she would do very well. George hugged his mother as well, looking apprehensive. And then the parents switched, and Cate was facing the rather intimidating Molly Weasley.

Molly grabbed Cate and squeezed her into a hug better than anything her own mother had ever given her. Cate felt tears well up as Molly pulled back and put both hands on her face. "You are more than welcome to come here anytime you like. You're my daughter now, too, and I would love to get to know you as well as the rest. And next weekend, remember, that wedding reception?"

Cate nodded, trying not to tear up, and asked, "Can I come and help you cook? It's just that I'd like to learn, and George says that you're the best…"

Molly grinned. "Well, then, aren't you just the charmer? I see why he likes you."

Cate blinked. "But…"

Molly nodded. "Of course, dear. Just Floo me later this week. I'll have my hands full with the children, and I could use the help."

Cate smiled tremulously, and Molly hugged her again. Arthur and George were very carefully not watching, until the hug broke up and George grabbed her hand.

"Night, Mum."

Molly gave him a stern look. "Don't think I don't know what you did back there, George. I saw what you gave to James. Shame on you for encouraging him."

George grinned cheekily as he threw Floo powder into the fireplace. "Love you too, Mum."

Cate stepped in first, and was about to speak when a flying handful of mud took George directly in the face. His mother stared at him innocently as he wiped it out of his eyes and spit it out of his mouth.

The last thing they heard was Molly scolding him for spitting on her floor, and Arthur congratulating her for a perfect shot.

* * *

Cate woke slowly the next morning, the sunlight streaming across her feet. George was long gone; he had woken her briefly to let her know that he'd be gone for much of the morning, but expected to be back for lunch, after which, they could visit her family.

She'd fallen back to sleep, of course, but now, with the thought of the visit looming over her, she was wide awake. Sitting up, she groaned, running her fingers through her hair. Then she saw the state of the room. Shaking her head, she got out of their bed and went into the bathroom, which was nearly as bad as the bedroom. She'd definitely have to have a word with him about his cleaning habits, she thought, but after a hot shower. And maybe breakfast.

She put on a simple sundress in bright green with large flowers. Her mother would appreciate that she was wearing a dress, and possibly her grandmother; it was a minor concession that could only help her case. She would ask George to wear a nice, not-bright shirt; her grandmother would certainly notice anything that he had in his closet currently. Many of his dress-shirts were in neon or garishly printed, but there was a dark maroon one in the back that would do nicely. She pressed it with her wand and hung it on the closet door. He could pick his own pants, of course, though she would make a gentle suggestion.

She spent the rest of the morning cleaning their flat and adding some of her own personal touches. She changed the colors of the kitchen chairs and table from a blinding orange with red and yellow stripes to a tasteful white with red, orange, and yellow legs. She conjured some curtains, but didn't like the look; the flat didn't seem like the place for frills, and she didn't care for them, either. She left the living room as it was; she liked the bright colors and she knew that George had left it in honor of his brother. The bathroom was tedious, and mostly just needed to be scrubbed, but she had to clean her old things out of the former spare room, surprised that he had kept them, getting rid of some and keeping others. She kept some clothes in the closet, added more, and put some of her things in their new bedroom.

She'd saved it for last, of course, hoping that he'd be home by that time and want to use it for better purposes. But even though the clock said that it was nearly one, he wasn't home yet. So she scrubbed the floors and walls, erasing handprints and smears of potion, and she put his laundry in the hamper (she would do laundry later today, if not tomorrow). She made the bed, put a freshening charm on the sheets, and a couple of items from Arizona on the bedside table and dresser. She hung a painting, one that Muirgan had given her as a wedding present, above the bed; it had bright colors, so it would amuse George, but it was a peaceful view of the desert.

Finished, she went into the living room to wait. And wait. She summoned a book from the spare room (which she had partially converted into a library) and began to read, losing herself in the subtlety of the potions text that she had bought before their trip home.

George came home an hour later and found her dozing on the couch, the book lying on her chest and her hair mussed from sleep. He woke her with a kiss, and she nearly hit him with the book. He told her to go back to sleep, that he'd take a shower and get dressed, and they'd eat and then visit her parents.

She sleepily informed him about the maroon shirt, and curled up on the couch, book lying forgotten on the floor.

George was ready in half an hour, and so woke Cate, who ran a brush through her hair, put on a little makeup and a necklace she said was a gift from her father. George kissed her forehead, grabbed her hand, and they walked down the street to the Leaky Cauldron. He pointed out the photographer from the Daily Prophet, and while she wanted nothing more than to be left alone, he made the argument that it was better that they go about their lives like normal, and ignore everyone else.

They ate a quick, cold lunch, paid, and Apparated away to Moon Manor. George hadn't arrived by Apparation before, and he was suitably impressed.

Cate looked around with hungry eyes. Nothing much had changed. The path, bluish-gray gravel lined with tiny blue flowers, still shot arrow-straight to the circle in front of the house. The Manor was still heavy gray stone, with tall, narrow columns in the front, and landscaping that looked painfully precise. The front door was new, she saw with confusion, and a couple of the lower level windows were broken, but it was still the same house that it had been for her entire life.

She took a deep, shaky breath, gripped George's hand tightly, and marched up to the house. She pulled the bell-cord, and a deep, resonant sound echoed around the stone courtyard.

Cate could feel her knees shaking as she heard heels click across the marble entrance, and then the door creaked open.

An older woman with dark, graying hair and piercing dark eyes stood there, a hint of confusion on her face. "May I help you?"

Cate sensed something was wrong. "Yes. I'd like to speak to my…to Elspeth Moon, please."

The woman's frown deepened. "And you are?" Her voice was low, growly, and spots of red appeared on her cheeks.

George tightened his grip, but didn't say a word. Cate froze for a moment. Had it been that long? But she didn't know this woman…

"Cate Moon, her granddaughter." She was pleased that she barely stuttered at all.

Next to her, George frowned, and she realized that she hadn't used the proper last name. Moon was her maiden name, now.

The woman's frown eased slightly. "Very well. Come inside, and I'll fetch someone for you."

She opened the door fully, and led them into a very formal parlor that Cate remembered from her school days, when, on break, she would get a bad mark or a letter home, and her parents would talk to her about it, her aunts and uncles throwing in the occasional comment for good measure. They sat in one of the uncomfortable sofas, and George looked around with interest in the art, which whispered about their appearance in the obviously underused room.

George leaned back as one of the female portraits giggled and waved. Cate had always hated that girl, with her perfect hair and elaborate gown, and felt the dislike increase as the portrait made eyes at her husband. Possessively, she pulled him down into a quick kiss; that shut the stupid girl up.

"Well."

The word was said in an icy voice that sent a chill up Cate's spine. She closed her eyes briefly, then pulled away. "Hello, Isabelle."

Both she and George turned toward the door, where an elegant woman in a dark plum dress stood poised, her ash-blond hair swept away from a perfect face. She wore heels; Cate could barely manage to walk across a floor without tripping in them, yet she knew her sister wore them every day. She walked across the wooden floor of the parlor, her purple heels clicking as she made her way in front of her sister.

Isabelle looked at her, entirely expressionless. "Welcome home, little sister."

Cate smiled, trying to hide the sudden rise of distaste and hint of fear that her sister always brought on. "Thanks."

Cate glanced down her sister's lanky form, which was showing signs of something disturbing. To her, at least. "Congratulations?" she asked, nodding towards her sister's stomach, hoping she was wrong.

Isabelle tilted her head. "Yes. Thank you. Matthias and I are quite pleased. It's a girl." She may have been discussing wallpaper.

Cate waited, but her sister said nothing else. "You remember George." It wasn't a question; they had been in school together, after all.

Isabelle nodded. "Of course. Welcome to our home, George. Thank you for finding my sister."

There was another long pause, which Cate broke. "Where are Mum and Dad? And Grandmother?"

Isabelle blinked. "Were you not told? Mrs. O'Bannon should have informed you."

Cate grimaced. "I don't think she believed me when I told her this was my home."

Isabelle glanced at the sundress, which Cate had been so proud of mere hours before. "I can understand that. Mother and Father are sitting with Grandmother. She's ill. Likely dying, the Healers say, but Father won't believe them."

Cate reeled backwards. "Dying?" she whispered, reaching blindly for George's hand. "She's…she's ill?"

Isabelle sighed. "I suppose I should take you to them. Follow me."

She turned and stalked out of the room, her heels echoing in the silent room. George waited until she was around the corner before pulling Cate in for a hug.

"Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry. You'll see."

Cate shuddered. "This was a mistake." She pressed her face against his chest. "This was all a mistake."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	23. Chapter 23

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**The Howling**

Cate had never seen her grandmother look so frail. She laid on stretch of white sheets, in the finest fabrics, of course, her silver hair tied back from her face, which was pale and drawn. Her eyes were closed, and one hand, thinner than Cate remembered, rested on top of the coverlet. She reached back for George, gripping his hand tightly, and walked over to her parents, who were sitting on chairs near the foot of the bed.

Cate felt tears prickle in her eyes as her father stood, his face a mix of hope and exhaustion. His voice was so warm and familiar as he said, "Catie?"

She nodded, and rushed into his outstretched arms. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears fall. She hadn't realized until this moment how much she missed her father. He was kissing the top of her head, mumbling something under his breath that she couldn't quite make out.

When they pulled apart, her mother was there, her pale, perfect face a mirror of her husband's. For the first time since her brother's death, her mother pulled her into a hug, without flinching, and just held her close.

Cate could have died happy at that moment, but there was something more important. "What happened to Grandmother?"

Hiero was too choked up to speak, so her mother did, her dispassionate words belying the anxiety on her face. "She's been sick for a few weeks now. We've had the healers in, of course, but they weren't able to do much. She's just too old, and if she doesn't recover on her own… There's just nothing they can do. I think…" She looked at her hands, where one of the nails was chipped. "I think she was waiting for you to be here. She knew, somehow."

Cate turned blindly back to George, who was just there, a solid presence, and closed her eyes. "Did they… Do you know how long?" Her voice was rough, low, full of unshed tears.

Hiero shook his head. "No. They didn't say." He swallowed. "She'd want to see you, but this is the first time she's been able to sleep longer than an hour. We can come back, if you would like." He glanced at her fingers, interlaced with George's. "I think perhaps there are some things to talk about."

Cate nodded, then took George to her grandmother's side while her parents left the room. She stared down at the woman who had ruled their family for her entire life, who had survived two wars, the death of her husband, sons, and grandchildren, and felt her heart breaking.

She leaned back into George, and he held her up, his arms around her waist, not saying a word. She closed her eyes, soaking in his strength, before leaning down and kissing her grandmother on the forehead, gently, whispering, "I love you."

They left the room.

* * *

She and George found her parents in a small sitting room near the bedroom where her grandmother lay dying. It was one rarely used by the rest of the family; it was a part of the manor that her grandmother had commandeered for her own purposes years ago, and it showed. There were no cobwebs, no dust – the house-elves would have banged their ears in the doors if any dirt were to be found anywhere in the manor – but there was an empty, impersonal feel to the room, with its tasteful silver wallpaper of fluttering butterflies and waving flowers, its cream sofas and white marble tables. It was nothing like her grandmother; in fact, it was too like her mother.

Serenity and Hierophant sat near on another on the largest sofa, the skirts of her somber robes just touching the leg of his trousers. Her mother sat perfectly straight, and though her face showed lines of tiredness and worry, she seemed almost composed. Her father, on the other hand, looked simply ragged, with his too-long hair and beard that looked to be about four days overdue for a shave. His robes were clean and newly changed; his mother would have been extremely annoyed if he showed up in her sickroom dirty, Cate thought.

She and George took the loveseat opposite the sofa, their fingers still intertwined, and waited.

Serenity glanced briefly at her husband before giving him up as a lost cause. "I see that there have been some developments," she said, her voice distant and exhausted.

Cate nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "We're married."

Serenity blinked, and the aura of calm shattered. She sank back into the sofa, and reached for Hiero. "You've got to be bloody kidding," she stammered.

Cate went mute from the shock. She'd never once, in her entire life, heard her mother swear. George squeezed her hand, and she nodded. "No. We've been married two days now. We got married in America."

Serenity's lips thinned and she bit back a sharp retort. Hiero patted his wife's hand and leaned forward, his face pale. "And you were in America because…" He left the statement open to either of them, seeming lost.

George scowled. "I told you. I sent you letter after letter, but I received no reply. Harry and Ron, my brothers, they're Aurors, and they had knowledge of death threats against Cate and those she loves. She ran away because I was attacked. We've had words about it, and I love her, so we got married before we arrived in England. There were witnesses," he added, as if daring them to deny it.

Cate turned to her husband and gave him a look that told him to let her handle things. "Mother, Dad, I'm sorry to drop this on you now, but we had no idea… If I'd known about Grandmother… Well, suffice it to say I would have written. I'd have come back. Anything."

George's face was set with fierce determination. "As if they'd have given a damn," he muttered.

Cate froze, not realizing that her face was set with the same expression of shock as her mother's.

Hiero found his voice. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

George glared at them, his hand holding hers so tightly that she could barely feel the tips of her fingers. "You know exactly what I mean. You didn't once ask how the search went, though I stopped sending letters after receiving nothing but silence for months. I tried everything but calling you out a duel, and you still showed no sign that you missed your daughter. I don't even know why we're bloody here! You don't give a damn what happens to her!"

Hiero's face contorted into a snarl. "Get out," he hissed through his teeth. "Catie, get him out of here."

Serenity launched herself to her feet and practically ran out of the room. Cate thought she saw a tear.

"Dad, I…" she stammered, her voice catching.

Hiero didn't even look at her. "You can stay. You are family. But if this…person…is not out of this room, indeed, out of this house in the next two minutes, he will be dead! I don't care if you love him or not!"

He followed his wife, gripping his wand in a bloodless hand.

Cate spun on George, whose face was white with shock and anger. "How could you? My grandmother is dying down the hall, and you choose _now_ to pick a fight?" She shook her head and glanced at the door, hearing voices in the distance. "I'll meet you at home. I want to speak to my grandmother, and I can't do that if you and my parents are fighting."

George clenched his jaw. "Fine. But I'm not apologizing. What they did to you…"

Cate held up a hand. "Later, George. Please. I'll talk to you later. For now, just go."

* * *

She watched George Floo out of the third floor fireplace, and then tracked her parents down. Her mother was in her favorite room – light green, open room, on a corner, with two walls full of windows and utterly full of flowers, both real and painted. Her father stood over her mother, who was seated in a large chair facing the pond, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. Cate hesitated to interrupt, but her father spoke before she could.

"Nathan's up visiting your grandmother."

She didn't need to hear anything else, and neither glanced at her as she left the room, never having spoken a word.

She had always, for her entire life, felt safe around Nathan. He was her big brother, her rock, and the one that had always supported her in everything.

So when she saw him sitting in a chair next to her grandmother's bed, she didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as if the world depended on it. After a brief hesitation, where he collected his thoughts, he wrapped his arms around her middle and squeezed.

"Missed you, little sister," he muttered into her hair.

"Missed you more, big brother," she answered, trying to control the tears that threatened to fall. She was happy, damn it, and didn't need any more awkwardness.

He finally pulled away, holding her out at arms length and looking her over. Satisfied, he nodded. "Not bad." He winked, grinning. "Not good, either."

She punched his arm, forgetting, just for a moment, where they were. They both instantly sobered when their grandmother rolled slightly, wheezing in her sleep.

Cate pulled up a matching chair and settled into it, and they both watched Elspeth sleep for a moment. Nathan, as usual, broke the silence.

"So, you're back."

Cate nodded. "Yep."

"With a bit of an American accent." His voice held a hint of amusement.

"Yep, though I hadn't really noticed until I arrived." She grinned, showing her teeth.

Nathan didn't look at her. "And married, I hear."

"Yep." He'd asked it – stated, really – so casually that she almost hadn't noticed how tense he was. "You have a problem with that?"

Nathan shrugged. "Not if you don't. At least, I think he's a good guy, and you did run away from him once, but yeah, if you're happy, I am."

Cate sucked in a deep breath. "Good, because I'm very happy. And I love him. And we're going to have lots of babies together, and live in a castle, and be happily ever after."

Nathan scowled. "Leave that kind of talk for your girlfriends. I'm just as happy to think of you being celibate and not touching each other." He paused. "In fact, let's pretend, for the rest of our lives, that you are as celibate and virginal as ever."

Cate raised an eyebrow. "Just because I wasn't married to him before…"

Nathan held up a hand, leaning forward. "Grandmother?"

Elspeth was watching the two of them talk with watery eyes, a small smile on her pale face. "Catherine. You're here."

Cate nearly leapt out of the chair and onto the bed. "I…I…I'm so sorry…"

Elspeth waved the apology away. "There is nothing to forgive. I'm just so pleased that I get to see you again."

Nathan glanced at his sister. "She got married without us."

Elspeth shrugged slightly. "At least I got to meet the young man before I die. I'm assuming its George, right? That Weasley boy? He was very nice. A bit slow, perhaps, but very nice."

Cate swallowed back her instinctual reply, and simply nodded, while Nathan sniggered into his hands.

Elspeth leaned toward her granddaughter, and gripped her hand tightly between her two heavily veined and thin hands. "I am so proud of you. I know I don't say it enough, but I am. I am proud of you both, and I love you. Now go, fetch your father. Both of you."

They stood together, almost as one, and made it to the door. Something stopped Cate, and she put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. Something made her say, "I love you too, Grandmother." She heard Nathan's stuttering as well, and then the siblings walked down the hall to tell Hiero that his mother was awake.

Hiero sat in the silver sitting room with his arm around Serenity's shoulder. They looked tired, completely worn out, but looked up in unison as their two children walked through the door.

Nathan gave them a tight smile, stopping just inside the room. "She wants you, Dad."

Hiero got to his feet and raced out of the room, Serenity calmly making her way at his heels. Cate sank into one of the comfortable chairs and put a hand over her eyes. Nathan didn't move. "I suppose you know, but later this week is the full moon."

Cate nodded. "Yeah, I knew, but thanks for the reminder."

Nathan nodded, staring at his feet. "Yeah."

There was a strangled howl from the direction of their grandmother's room. Nathan glanced down the hall, but made no move. Cate felt the tears rising, and let them.

* * *

Cate Flooed home nearly two hours later. She felt drained, physically and emotionally.

Hiero had walked into his mother's room to find her peacefully resting, her hands folded neatly and a small smile on her lips. It had taken a few seconds for him to realize that she wasn't breathing.

Serenity had kept her husband together, and had taken it upon herself to notify the children, and the rest of the family, about Elspeth's passing. Before twenty minutes had gone by, the Manor was full, of aunts, uncles, cousins, and, for some reason, small animals. They had been overjoyed to see Cate safe, and heartbroken at Elspeth's death. It had been all Cate could do to extract herself from the situation, but she had done it. She had never been one to grieve in public, and she wanted George.

She collapsed into one of the chairs by the fireplace and let the reality hit her. Her grandmother was gone. She had been there for the entirety of Cate's life, a larger-than-life figure of power and correctness. And suddenly, she wasn't there anymore.

She sobbed, sobs wracking her chest, and buried her face in her hands. She was shaking, wanting the beast inside of her to tear its way free so that she didn't have to feel the pain.

The blast of the stunner was a welcome oblivion.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	24. Chapter 24

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Something Deep Inside**

Cate struggled awake, her eyelids heavy and little tingles running up her fingers and arms. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog.

"Cate!"

Someone was whispering, their voice harsh. She couldn't focus on the words; her eyes wouldn't even open yet.

"Cate! Come on, love, wake up!"

She forced her eyes to open and found herself staring at a blank stretch of pale wall. She blinked slowly and felt her head drop to her chest. Jerking it upright, she focused on the rough block wall, willing herself to stay awake.

"Cate!" The whisper sounded closer, and much happier.

She twisted to the side, groaning as something dug into her hips and hands. She looked down. It took a moment to realize that there were ropes holding her to a chair. They bound her chest and arms, and wrapped down her legs; the only thing she could move was her head, and that felt heavy and awkward. Her eyes focused on the ground, tight packed dirt

She turned her head only this time, trying to find the source of the whisper. "Hello?" Her voice cracked, and she realized that she was thirsty.

"Damn it, Cate, I'm right here! Look at me!"

She groaned in response and turned her head. "What?"

George was looking at her, worry etched in every line of his face. A thin cut dripped blood down the side of his cheek, soaking into the collar of his maroon robes. He must have gone to work. And where that thought had come from, she had no idea.

"George?" she mumbled, her tongue feeling two sizes too large.

"Cate! Thank Merlin! Are you alright?" His eyes lost some of their panic.

She tried to shrug. "I don't…are you…where are we?"

George grunted. "No idea. But we've been here awhile. And our wands are gone."

Cate stared at him. "Wands?"

George frowned. "Did they give you something?"

Cate blinked slowly. "Something…" Her voice was dazed.

There was the sound of metal scraping against concrete. George tried to look behind them, but he couldn't move his body.

"Well, isn't this sweet? Move him." It was a woman's voice, low and silky, with a hidden malice.

Cate watched dazedly as a brute of a man picked George up with his chair and took him out of her line of sight. George struggled, shouting, but the woman shot a spell at him and he slumped. Soon, he was gone.

Cate tried to focus, but the scrape of metal distracted her. She was left staring at the wall.

The woman's voice purred in the sudden silence. "Hello, Catherine. My, but you've been a naughty girl." Cate tried to turn, but her body wasn't responding the way it should. A hand appeared on her shoulder, sliding across her back. "A bad dog." The last was said in a near whisper, almost seductive.

Cate frowned. "Who are you?"

The woman came into her view, and Cate gasped. "I…I know you." The woman was tall, solidly built, and handsome, in a square way. She had graying dark hair, and flat black eyes that held more than their share of madness.

The other woman gave her a bitter grin. "I should think so. It is your fault, after all, that my daughter is dead."

* * *

Cate would have rocked back on her heels if she had been standing, but there was nothing for it. "I…your daughter?" There was a heavy fog over her mind, and she had to fight through it to get the words out.

The woman's grin faded into a snarl. "Yes, you stupid girl. My daughter. My beautiful girl, who you killed. Bad dog." She lashed out suddenly, slapping Cate hard. "If not for you, none of this would have happened. My daughter would be alive if not for you."

Cate blinked away the fog "I don't know…what…her name…"

The woman sneered. "My daughter's _name_ is Sukie Lawrence. You were classmates. Do you remember now?"

Cate felt the blood drain from her face. "Sukie?"

The woman nodded, her back straightening. "Ah, so you remember her? I'm so pleased." She hissed the words, and the sarcasm was evident. She kicked the chair, knocking it over.

Cate grunted as she hit the ground. "What did I ever do to you?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "You killed my daughter!" she snarled, grabbing the front of Cate's shirt and pulling her up. "And I'm going to destroy your whole life, just as you've destroyed mine."

She grabbed her wand out of her pocket and whispered a spell full of malice. The last thing Cate saw was the woman's eyes, black with hate.

* * *

She woke suddenly this time, with none of the haziness that had accompanied her last waking. She remembered everything as well, including the wand tip shaking at her nose and the woman, Sukie's mother, staring at her with malice and madness in every line of her face.

She struggled, but her hands and feet were completely bound; she could only move her head, and that only just. The slab of stone – she knew it was stone, because it was freezing on her back – molded to her every movement, and even tightened slightly. She wanted to call out, but her voice was gone.

She remembered Sukie, a Ravenclaw in her year that had been very smart, very kind, and just about as popular as Ginny Weasley. In that last, horrible year, she and Sukie had become, if not close friends, as least more than passing acquaintances. Sukie had been pretty, of course, with her mother's dark eyes and curly light brown hair that she said she'd inherited from her father. Cate was the taller of the two, and yet Sukie was more outspoken, often getting into arguments to defend others. Sukie had even been on the Quidditch team, though she'd been a backup Chaser. Some of the other Ravenclaws whispered that she should have been a Gryffindor, and it wasn't a compliment.

She remembered that horrible day when Sukie died, because it was the day her life had been changed forever.

_Cate was dragged out of class by that hideous Carrow woman who had the audacity to call herself a teacher. She'd been in Potions, which Sukie hadn't taken, and had been surprised to see the other girl when the Carrow woman threw her in one of the dungeons. Sukie was disheveled, her curls falling out of their ponytail. The two girls had huddled near each other, shivering as the temperature dropped. Sukie had smiled up at her, and it was a resigned smile. _

"_What'd you do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. _

_Cate frowned. "Nothing. At least, I don't think I did anything. What'd you do?"_

_Sukie shrugged. "I stopped that brute from torturing a first year girl. A Hufflepuff, not that it matters. Apparently, it was the last straw, whatever that means."_

_Cate blinked. "Oh."_

_And there was really nothing else to say. Potions had been her second class of the day, so when lunch passed, they were looking hopefully out of the door, thinking that this alone must have been their punishment. But then hours passed – Sukie had a watch, even if their wands had been taken away – and it was just past dinner. The sun was setting, and both girls were freezing. _

_Suddenly, the door was pulled open. The Carrows, beastly things, walked in with wands drawn, grinning madly at the girls. Alecto, the woman, rubbed her teeth with her tongue, and then said, with a terrifying grin, "Up you get."_

_They were forced along the corridor until they came upon the great doors that led out onto the lawns. The students were lined up along the corridors, mostly confused. Cate saw her brother Leo being restrained by several of his classmates. _

_They were halted by the doors, and the man, Amycus, spoke up to the student body, barely repressing a giggle. "This is what will happen when you disobey orders." _

_Alecto shot a Cruciatus spell at Sukie, who fell to the ground, screaming. Cate shivered next to her, trying to look. Leo called out to her, and was struck down by one of the "hall monitors", a fellow student who had proven adept at the Unforgivables. _

_Sukie screamed for long minutes before Alecto let up, giggling all the while. Amycus sneered. "And this is what will happen when your family disobeys." _

_He pointed his wand at Cate, who closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. When it didn't come, she blinked rapidly. Amycus was staring at her, his piggish little eyes gleeful. "March."_

_The doors opened, and he marched her outside, with Leo screaming in the background. _

_Alecto led the rest of the students down the grass behind both Cate and Sukie, stopping when they came to the edge of the Forest, where two tall trees stood slightly away from the rest of the woods, heavy manacles hanging from two low branches. Alecto giggled as her brother forced first Cate, and then Sukie, into the chains. _

_None of the other professors were there. She didn't know what they could have done if they had been. _

_Alecto began the march back up the hill, but before he left, Amycus, in a voice that would carry over the student body, said, "Full moon tonight. Fenrir's going to be so happy."_

_Leo struggled to get back, before Amycus stunned him. Cate whimpered, and Sukie began to cry. _

_The full moon rose only an hour later, and not long after that, Cate heard shuffling in the trees. She tried to turn around, but the manacles prevented that. Sukie, too, tried to see, but there was nothing either of them could do, wandless and alone. Cate nearly screamed when she felt the cold, wet nose against the back of her knee, and did when teeth clamped onto her calf, ripping into the flesh and sinking deeply. The wolf – and it had to be a werewolf – bit her legs a few more times, and then grabbed onto her hip, shaking fiercely. She screamed and cried, and tried to free herself. She could feel the blood dripping down her legs, legs that wouldn't hold her anymore. She tried to sink to the ground, but only succeeded in pulling on her arms, now the sole support of her body. _

_The wolf snuffled in her hair, and licked a tear off her face. She could smell something on his breath, and then he bit her shoulder. She screamed again, hoarsely, and then he shook his head again, and she sank into the oblivion of unconsciousness as pain ripped through her entire body. _

_She'd awoken slowly the next morning. She couldn't feel her hands anymore, and there wasn't a part of her body that didn't ache and burn with pain. She could feel gentle hands at the manacles, and muttered curses. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring at the kind, ragged face of Madam Pomfrey. She blinked stupidly at the woman, who patted her face gently. _

"_Oh, my poor child," the matron said, her eyes filling with tears. "Let's get you to the infirmary, and I'll see what I can do."_

_Cate blinked again. "Sukie?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. _

_Madam Pomfrey's eyes filled with tears. "I'm afraid Miss Lawrence…well, let's get you up, dear."_

_Cate was released from the manacles and slumped into the matron's waiting arms. As she was led to the hovering gurney, she saw Sukie. _

_Or rather, what was left of her._

_She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat and choked back a sob. Madam Pomfrey patted her gently on the back. "It's alright dear. It's not your fault. Let's get you up to the castle now, that's a love."_

* * *

Cate tried to blink back tears as memories of that terrible day overwhelmed her. She couldn't wipe them away, as her hands were bound, but for once she wasn't ashamed of the hot, wet tears that slid down her face. Sukie had been a friend, and she'd died a horrible, unnecessary death. Why shouldn't she cry?

"So beasts have feelings, do they? Or are you just sorry to be here?"

The woman's voice…Sukie's mother. She remembered Sukie talking about her family. She'd been a pureblood as well, though an only child; her father had died when they were in their third year, and Sukie's mother had taken it rather hard. Obviously. And now, with Sukie gone…

Cate struggled to find her voice. "Not a beast." She felt her lips move, but no sound came out.

The woman leaned over. "Of course you are. A hideous beast that should be put down. But I want everyone, even that little family of yours, to know that, so I've got a job for you. Been planning this for months, now. Years. Poetic justice, as they say. They'll put you down like the bad dog you are, and your family will be shamed, and so will the family of that poor, misguided boy that married you. He'll see, soon, what a terrible creature you are. He'll know. And he'll hate you. Might even put you down himself." She released a cackle that made the hairs on the back of Cate's neck rise. "But first…" She leaned over, and spittle clung to the side of her mouth.

She pointed her wand at Cate's face, and Cate felt the muscles freeze. She flinched when the woman ran a hand down her face. "And now, for my little pet here…"

She pulled out a tiny silver spider, perfect in every detail. Cate tried to shriek when it shook itself and moved, but her voice was still gone. The woman pulled open Cate's mouth, not trying to be gentle, and whispered to the little spider, in a lover's tone, "Be good, my pet. Do as I bid you, and be good."

The spider wriggled a little, and she dropped it into Cate's mouth, closing it behind the little creature. Cate's eyes widened as the woman forced her to swallow, and screamed bloody murder in her head. She stared at the woman as the spider crawled down her throat, tickling, and down into her belly. She could feel it settle, pinching at the inner walls, before cutting. Cate saw black spots as the pain increased, and then burning. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she tried to sink into oblivion, but the woman wouldn't let her.

She slapped Cate hard, and said, "Now, that little beauty was my insurance policy. My plan is perfect, and yet, things, as they say, will happen."

She released Cate from her bonds, but she couldn't move quite yet. "You will perform one task for me, and one only. You will complete it by Friday. If this is not done, I will kill your so-called husband, and leave his body for his family to find. And when you have heard of his death, I will activate my little pet, who will eat away at whatever he can find, and you will die a slow, agonizing death. If you disobey any of my instructions, or try to tell anyone, or say anything I do not like, and I will know, he will do things that cause pain, but no irreparable harm. When your task is done, he will deactivate, and not harm you." She grinned maliciously. "Oh, but I had forgotten. He is made of silver. You only have days either way, then. At least this way, your George," she sneered the name, "will live."

Cate nodded, gasping, as the woman released the spell holding her silent. Her voice was rough and pained. "What do you want me to do?"

The woman stared at her, madness buried now beneath cunning. "You will kill Harry Potter."

Cate gasped, blinking. "No!" she whispered, her hands going to her throat.

The woman tilted her head, birdlike. "You will kill Harry Potter, on Friday, in the Ministry of Magic. With this."

She held out her hand. A thin knife, long and slender and beautiful, with a heavy ruby in the hilt, lay across her palm, glittering with deadly sharpness.

Cate stared at it, shaking her head.

The woman grinned, bearing her teeth. "You will do this, or George will die."

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	25. Chapter 25

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**The Waiting Game**

Cate walked on unsteady legs up the stairs to the apartment she shared with George – _Oh Merlin, George!_ – and pushed the door open. After their marriage, with much giggling and kissing, he'd added her to the security wards that protected the apartment, and so she didn't even have to touch the doorknob if she didn't want to. She went straight to their bedroom, with its clothes on the floor and shoes under the bed and fell onto the heavy mattress, letting loose the sobs that had been boiling up in her ever since the woman had dropped her at the entrance of Diagon Alley and had handed her wand back.

"Nothing foolish, hear, because I'll know," she'd whispered menacingly before Apparating out again. The spider moved slightly, reminding Cate that it hadn't been an idle threat.

Cate shuddered at the memory, curling her fists around an old shirt of George's that she could remember him throwing on the bed after work, and that they'd ignored after falling into bed, laughing. They were always laughing, it seemed. And kissing. What she wouldn't give to have him hear with his arms around her. But then, he would tell her not to let that mad old woman badger her, and just tell Harry, that he, George, would be fine, and they'd find a way to fix everything before anything bad happened. But he wasn't here. She was alone.

She glanced at the annoying little clock next to the bed, her tears making the numbers blurry. Nearly eleven in the morning, and only Wednesday. Wednesday. Merlin, she only had two days until…until that mad old woman did something she, Cate, would never recover from.

She straightened, swallowing, and sat up, pulling his shirt around her shaking frame. She would save George's life single-handedly, and damn the consequences. She didn't matter in the scheme of things; only he did.

* * *

The rest of the day, she cleaned the apartment. Of course, she could have been planning the… the unpleasantness, but she couldn't think, and there was no where she needed to be, no where she wanted to go without George. So she cleaned, even though she'd done the exact same thing yesterday, and it didn't really need it. By nine that night, the apartment sparkled, even under the couch. She'd done it all without magic, of course, and was curled up in a ball, staring at their closet. His robes and shirts were hung neatly next to hers, and clashed comfortably. She'd never thought there would be a time when clashing colors offered her a sense of rightness, but somehow, George brought that out in her.

When there was nothing else to clean, the laundry folded and put away, even the refrigerator clean and smelling fresh, she pulled out an old scrapbook that she'd shoved under her bed, one of the few things that she'd taken from the Manor upon marrying George. She flew past the first few pages, of her as a baby, as a child, with her brothers and sister, some alone. Some showed her grandmother, and that brought a different kind of pain.

She skimmed through the pages of her Hogwarts years until she came to her fifth year. She scanned each image carefully, waving at sober picture-her and her friends. She hadn't seen her classmates in forever, it seemed. She should…but no. She was on the fifth picture before she found it.

For some reason, she had never really been sure why, one of her classmates had decided that a picture of each year was in order. As she was the only one with a magical camera, they'd used hers. Every Ravenclaw from the school was represented, by year, and a proud Professor Flitwick was evident in the corner of each one; one of the Seventh Year boys had even hoisted the tiny professor onto his shoulders, and that was an individual shot. Since the camera was hers, she'd gotten a copy of every picture.

In the third row of First Year boys, there was her little brother, Charles. He looked so puffed up and proud, and he was one of the few children that didn't fidget or start a fight or try to sneak out of the image. She skipped past the Second Years, where Peeves had gotten in and dropped a couple of ink bombs, something he'd found rather hilarious and the girls had sobbed for days about. She skipped the Third Years, where one of the boys was trying to balance a set of books on his friend's head, and the Fourth Years, who'd all succeeded in looking utterly pretentious. She stopped, heart hammering in her chest, on the Fifth Years.

She was sitting on the end of one of the benches, hands neatly in her lap, trying not to laugh as one of the boys poked her. She'd always liked that boy, but she could barely remember his name, now; he'd been a Muggle-born, and hadn't returned to Hogwarts after that year. In front of her, staring dreamily into space, was the exasperating Luna Lovegood, who hadn't been a good Ravenclaw and should have been a Hufflepuff. Cate was sitting next to three of her yearmates: Aisling McKay, a tiny blond girl with an attitude twice her size, Feng Tao, who'd been on the Quidditch team as a backup Seeker, but who'd never played, and Maggie Ripley, her best friend, whom she hadn't really spoken to in six years, since they'd turned seventeen and Maggie had married a Muggle that she'd known for five weeks. And there, sitting next to Maggie, encouraging the boy and at the same time flirting with his friend, was Sukie. Sukie, the beautiful. Sukie, the popular. Sukie, who had died when she hadn't.

She traced the image of her friends' faces, and they all waved at her, grinning. She waved back, blinking away tears. Smiling one last time at Sukie, she turned the page, looking for the well-worn spot in the upper right where her brother stood.

Leo had helped her organize this little project, once the House had decided to do it. He'd wanted to start a tradition, he said, to record the history of their very proud House, but she doubted anyone had kept it up after that dreadful year. He stood in the back, behind the rest of his classmates, and yet, he looked popular, and wanted. She ran her finger next to him, not touching his image; she didn't want it to fade. It was an oft repeated gesture. She smiled sadly at him, not wanting to say anything, but the words tumbled out. "You would have known what to do, now. You were always so clever. I miss you."

"I miss him, too."

She shrieked, dropping the book to the floor, as her brother Nathan appeared behind her, looking rather the worse for wear. She pressed against her chest, trying to still her pounding heart.

Her brother raised an eyebrow, but she realized, perhaps for the first time, that he looked older. Older than she remembered, and certainly older than he had looked the last time she'd seen him. "How did you…?" she began, trailing off.

He shrugged. "George added me to the wards. I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me. Talking to your favorite brother?" he added, with a slight twist of the mouth.

She shook her head. "No." She waited a beat. "He's at home."

Nathan laughed, and it felt genuine, for once, for a heartbeat, to smile back at him. She waited, but he seemed content to just stand there in the silence. She couldn't, however, let him stay too long. He'd wonder where George…

"Why are you here, Nathan?"

He glanced down at his feet, frowning, and thrust his hands into the pockets of his robes. "Well, Mum and Dad wanted to talk to you about…well, about the arrangements, and it's not really something you can do by owl, so I told them I'd come and tell you, just so you know. They want you there. You and George. And then, after, Mum said you're more than welcome to bring him to the Manor. There's to be a dinner, I guess. The whole family, and whatever guests Gram…" He sighed. "So, here I am."

Cate fought the urge to cry again, remembering suddenly, with a sharp pain, of the death of her grandmother. "Wh…when is the funeral? Where?" She couldn't look at him without tears forming.

Nathan paused, and then, his voice cracking, said, "Friday. At the Ministry."

Cate heard a roaring in her ears, and she barely heard him say that their grandmother had apparently donated quite a bit of money to the new ministry, and she was being honored, and they had a nice little room, not on the main floor, of course, but out of the way, and everyone would be there…

She didn't know how she got Nathan to leave. She didn't remember saying anything particularly poignant, but she must have managed somehow, since he left without a fight. She'd promised to go, of course. As soon as he left, she shut the door behind him and slid down the wall. She couldn't really cry; she was too worn out and too shocked to cry again.

"Hello? George? Cate?"

She squeaked as she heard another familiar voice. She closed her eyes for a second, pushing her anger and fear and desolation down, wiped her dry eyes, and stood, brushing off her knees. "Mrs. Weasley?" she asked, going towards the fireplace.

George's mother smiled back at her. "Hello, Cate, dear. Is George there?"

Cate's heart skipped a beat, and she was sure her smile slipped, just a bit. "Not at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Molly grinned. "Of course, dear." But she had a sudden look of awkwardness, and Cate sympathized.

"Do you want to come through?" she asked, grateful that she'd cleaned the place up.

Molly hesitated. "Well…"

Cate grinned. "Please do. I want to show off. New wife and all."

Molly nodded. "Yes. Well. I'll be right through." She pulled her head back, and the flames flared a brilliant green. Molly stepped into the apartment, and Cate watched her expression as she examined every inch of the spotlessly clean apartment. "I must say, Cate, this place has never looked better." She beamed.

Cate felt a rush of pleasure. "I agree. I've kept some things the same, of course, but I can't wait for George to see it." She'd nearly stumbled over his name, but caught herself. Molly didn't appear to notice.

"To be a fly on the wall when that happens," Molly grinned, clapping her hands together, and suddenly looking very much like her son. She turned to Cate, who noticed that there were smears of flour on Molly's apron, and her wand was stuck in her hair, holding it off her face. There were more grays than Cate had remembered, but Molly looked younger. "Now, dear, I've just gotten a notice from my husband that your grandmother had passed on."

Cate blinked, surprised at the sudden turn of conversation. "Oh, yes. I didn't realize…"

Molly swept her into a bone-crushing hug, and Cate let herself enjoy it, even if it was brief. "And, well, with the funeral arrangements, I just don't think… that is, it's entirely up to you…"

Cate blinked. "Mrs. Weasley, whatever you have to say, it won't hurt my feelings. Honestly."

Molly grimaced. "Well, I had planned on celebrating your marriage this Saturday. Just a family event, you know, with perhaps a few friends, but now, so soon after your grandmother's passing, I just don't know if it's appropriate. I was wondering if you'd mind if we postponed it, just a bit, until you're feeling more up to it. And your family, dear, of course. I'd like to invite your parents, and your brothers and sister, and just now…"

Cate held up a hand. "Mrs. Weasley…"

Molly grinned. "Call me Molly, dear. You're a Mrs. Weasley, too, and if we stand on formality, it'll get a bit confusing, after all."

Cate grinned back, suddenly feeling better. "Molly, then. Thank you for telling me about all this. I'd completely forgotten about the party, and you're right. But I would like…" She paused, blinking back tears. If all went to plan, she wouldn't be free after Friday; she'd likely be dead. She fought to push the smile back into place. "I would love it if we could have the reception before my little brothers go back to Hogwarts. And by then, my father should be, if not alright, then certainly he will have dealt with the shock of my grandmother's passing."

Molly gave her an odd look. "And you, dear? How are you feeling?"

Cate blinked. "Me? I…Well…" She frowned. "I don't really…know. I'm glad that George and I could speak to my grandmother before she d…died, but I wish… I wish that I'd been here, the last two years. I can't take it back, but I wish I'd known… well, if wishes came true, then the blind would see."

Molly patted her on the shoulder. "If there's anything I can do to help, dear, just let me know. I'm your mother now, too."

Cate didn't know what to say. "Thank you, Molly." She glanced at the clock above the fireplace; it was nearly seven, and she'd be wondering why George wasn't back yet. She gently led the older woman towards the fireplace, and the Floo pot on the mantle. "Just let me know when you want to have the reception, and I'll ask my parents. And…" Here she hesitated, remembering something George had told her, and she'd heard his little sister complain about. "And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to ask you a favor."

Molly tilted her head, birdlike. "What is it?"

Cate felt a sudden blush rise up. "Could you…could you teach me to cook?" The words came out in a mumbled rush, and just as she'd anticipated, Molly swelled with pride.

"Of course! I'd love to help you. Just come over any time, dear, and we'll arrange something. Oh, you have no idea…my own daughter just wanted to play with brooms and Quaffles, and my sons… well, you've met them. Oh, and I've left the bread in the oven!" she said, rushing to the fireplace. "Give me a Floo anytime. I'm always home."

She flung a handful of powder, and the flames turned green, and she was gone. Cate sucked in a breath. If only…

If she hadn't been bitten when she was fifteen…

If she hadn't met George…

If she hadn't fallen in love…

If she hadn't run away…

If, if, if…

She shook herself. Friday was coming.

At the thought, she felt a slight tingle in her fingertips, and the knife, the deadly, beautiful knife appeared in her hand. The metal was cool, and slick, and she wanted nothing more than to melt it into a puddle of nothing.

If only Harry hadn't been so good to her…

If she had died, and Sukie lived, none of this would have happened.

* * *

Thursday dawned gray and muggy, but she didn't notice. She was curled in her bed, George's shirt pulled around her, half-sleeping, half-crying. She felt numb.

She couldn't make herself do much of anything, today. Yesterday had been a haze of busyness, of cleaning away her fears, scrubbing the agony away. But there was nothing to do today. There really hadn't been anything to do yesterday, either, but she'd made it work.

Cate was staring at the wall when she made a sudden, snap decision. She hurled herself out of bed and made her way to the fireplace. She threw a handful of powder in and yelled, "Auror's Office!"

The pleasantly bland face of a welcome witch stared at her as she thrust her head into the flames. "Can I help you?"

Cate sucked in a smoky breath. "Auror Potter or Weasley, please?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

Cate frowned. "Their sister-in-law. Cate Weasley."

The woman shrugged. "I'll see if they're available."

She sat back on her heels, head bent at an awkward angle. When she saw Harry turn the corner in front of her, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Harry waved, grinned, and said something to the witch, but Cate didn't hear it.

She'd forgotten about the silver spider. It was crawling, tearing and poking, and she couldn't make a sound. It felt as though hundreds of needles and knives were at work, but there was nothing to do and nothing to say.

She saw Harry frown. "Cate?"

She forced a pained smile and shook her head. Closing her eyes for a second, she pulled back, gagging. Harry made a face, and said something to the witch. He pushed Cate's forehead back slightly, and she slid on her knees away from the flames, which died out instantly.

There was a pop, and Harry was suddenly beside her.

"Cate, are you all right?"

She shook her head, groaning as fresh pain spread throughout her body. It wasn't as bad as the change that came upon her once a month, but it was deeper, somehow, and she couldn't scream.

Harry frowned decisively. "Let's get you to St. Mungo's."

Cate shook her head furiously, pushing him away. He stumbled back, but kept on his feet. She scrambled to hers and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it before vomiting noisily into the toilet. Harry knocked on the door, and he was saying something, but a fresh wave of pain stole over her.

She passed out.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	26. Chapter 26

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Another Kind of Dance**

Cate woke slowly, groaning. She was warm, and there were still flares of pain, but it was less, somehow. She could hear voices, low murmurs.

"…haven't been able to find him. I don't know where in Merlin's name he got off to this time, but he should be here!" That was Ron, if she wasn't mistaken; his voice got higher, like George's, when he was mad.

"There's got to be something else going on, Ron. Why would she call the Auror's Office, then collapse and refuse care? And now, George is missing? There's more to this."

Cate screamed as the spider ripped again. The spell that had kept her silent before was absent this time. Harry and Ron rushed into the room, followed by a slender woman with a pinched face and nervous eyes.

"George…" she whispered, gagging on the blood and bile rising in the back of her throat. "George…" They didn't appear to hear her.

Lights flared in behind Cate's eyes, and she clawed her way back into oblivion, begging, silently, for the pain to stop.

* * *

There was no pain, this time. She woke slowly again, and was suddenly tired of passing out, of being Stunned, of any unnatural means of falling asleep. Couldn't she wake up once after a full night's rest, refreshed, with George beside her and no problems?

The sun filtered gently through the curtains, but the last thing she remembered, it had been gray and cloudy. Her tongue felt huge, and fuzzy, and there was a hint of blood in the back of her throat. Her fingers tingled.

"Are you feeling any better, dear?"

Cate jerked her head to the side, where Molly Weasley sat in a rocking chair, knitting what appeared to be a deep blue scarf. Cate nodded. "What…"

Molly held up a hand as her wand continued the knitting. "You've had a little problem, but you're getting better now. We've been worried."

Cate struggled to sit up. "What time is it?" Her head felt oddly fuzzy.

"Nearly ten in the morning. Don't worry; we've plenty of time."

Cate frowned at the older woman. "For what?" Her voice was low, rough, and even to her sounded awful.

Molly smiled beatifically, but it was a small smile. "To get you ready for the funeral, dear."

Cate frowned again. "Who's funeral?"

Molly tilted her head, and the scarf continued to grow, though now some of the threads were red. "Why, George's, dear."

* * *

Cate woke with a scream, hands clutching the blankets piled around her chest. She felt strong hands push her down, but she thrust them away, using her nails when possible. She heard cursing and shouts, and she was pushed back against the bed. Sudden pain ripped at her abdomen, but she ignored it.

George was dead. Oh, Merlin, George was dead.

She heard a voice shouting her name, and tried to focus on it, but the pain of George not being there was too much.

"Cate! For Merlin's sake, snap out of it!"

She fought until she couldn't anymore, and her body was racked with sobs. They successfully pushed her back, and she was held there as they poured potions down her throat. She choked a little, but they went down her throat. The pain didn't lessen, but she felt sleep tugging gently at her, and gave in.

She was tired, and George was gone…

* * *

She snapped upright, startling her assailant. The sun was streaming through the windows, and her mind was no longer fuzzy. The pain was gone.

"Cate?" The voice was soft, though masculine, and sounded tired.

She spun, causing the room to spin with her. "What?"

Harry's face came into focus, his eyes tired and his face scratched. "Are you there this time?"

She frowned. "Of course. Where's George?"

Harry sagged slightly. "We were hoping you could tell us. You haven't seen him?"

The silver spider poked her warningly, and she winced. "What time is it?"

Harry glanced at the clock. "It's ten in the morning." He sighed, glancing at a sheet of paper. "Your grandmother's funeral is at one."

Cate struggled to get out from under the covers. "I have to get ready. You can go now."

Harry stood up and helped her get to her feet. "What happened to you?"

Cate brushed him off. "Nothing I can't handle. Part of… I need to get ready. My family is expecting me."

Harry backed up a pace. "Your cousins are waiting for you in the living room. I think they're here to help."

Cate stared at the closed door, and took a deep breath. "Let them in. I…just, I need to get ready."

Harry watched her pace nervously, watched her stumble, and nodded. "Fine. But we'll talk after the funeral."

Cate blinked. "Of course. You're going to be there, aren't you." It wasn't really a question.

Harry nodded. "I liked your grandmother. She was a great supporter of my department."

Cate didn't respond, and he left. As he opened the door, all of her female cousins tumbled in, bearing several different robes in several shades of black. Harry watched for a moment, and she saw him watching, but she ignored him, and one of the girls shut the door.

It took her several moments to recognize her cousins, and she felt a flush of shame. Had it been so long?

Demeter was there, with her twin, Persephone. Persie sported a small diamond on her left hand, and a matching band; so she had married, then, while Cate had been gone. Demi didn't have a diamond, but she wore a ruby nearly twice the size of her sister's diamond. When Cate asked, she spouted something in Russian and beamed. Persie snorted and explained that while yes, Demi was engaged to a Russian named Yuri, they weren't going to be married for three years, while he finished some project for the Russian Magical Authority. And she was Persie White, now, thank you very much; her husband was the long suffering Ed, who'd put up with her since they'd both been in Third Year. They'd been married for a little under a year.

Their little sister, who'd been thirteen when Cate left, was now nearly a woman grown, Rhea pronounced proudly, and a little shyly. She was going to be stunning, Cate thought with detachment. She pulled at Cate's hair and tutted over it before drawing her wand and performing several complicated beauty spells; since no one else seemed to care, Cate said nothing.

Twins Vicki and Ellie were going through the pile of black robes, trying to find one that would fit. Ellie interrupted her twin often, and also the other girls, voicing her own opinion in a brash and carrying voice. She wasn't the cousin Cate remembered. And her sister and the other girls seemed to think that this was normal, that Ellie be rude and bossy. Vicki flicked things at her sister behind her back, but that was nothing new. She'd grown taller, if that was possible.

Her cousin Cornelia was going through her small shoe rack, throwing them into a haphazard pile, before pulling out a small bag and pulling out several pairs of black shoes from her own closet. She, too, sported a diamond, though it was nearly invisible; her fiancé was a Muggle, she proudly proclaimed, while whipping out her wand and resizing several shoes so that they'd fit Cate.

And there was one addition. Apparently, her cousin Benjamin had married Reagan, that sweet, quiet girl, who sat in the corner, hands folded neatly, wearing black dress robes and trying not to get hit by any flying shoes.

Cate let them fuss over her; better that then thinking right now. In a couple of hours, she would kill Harry, to save George.

In less time than she would have guessed, she was wearing a pair of low heels, dress robes that fell to her knees in panels and looked elegant rather than dowdy, and her coarse black hair was pulled back neatly away from her face. She even had makeup, though she didn't remember which cousin put it on.

When she entered the main room, Harry was waiting for her, with Ron, both dressed in black, and a couple other men that she didn't recognize. She was introduced, by rapturous cousins, to Ed White, whom she vaguely remembered, Yuri Olsanko, whom she hadn't met before, and who had a nose to rival hers, and then she was hugged by her cousin Benjamin, who looked completely different than she remembered. They all wore black, even the Aurors, and suddenly, the reality hit her. Her grandmother was dead. She was going to kill Harry. And then she would die.

All to save George. Well, her grandmother would have died anyway, and what a callous thought that was.

They filed through the doorway, and Harry held out a long metal wand, something he called a "tire iron". They all touched it, and the Portkey activated, pulling behind her navel. Apparently, the silver spider didn't like that; it shifted uncomfortably, and she nearly let go of the iron wand. But they landed safely in the Atrium of the New Ministry, and the spider settled down.

Ron led the way, and she lagged behind her cousins, who were chatting somberly now that they'd arrived. Harry hung in the back, next to her, and looked concerned. He pulled on her sleeve and led her into a little alcove, one that had a full view of the Atrium and was apparently used by security guards.

"Are you alright?"

Cate shrugged. "As alright as I can be."

Harry frowned. "You seem…"

Cate sneered slightly. "Different? Can't imagine why."

Harry shook his head. "Do you know where George is?"

Cate straightened, put on a haughty face, and attempted to look down on him. "Is this an interrogation, Auror Potter?"

Harry's spine stiffened in response. "Of course not, Cate."

She glanced at the retreating backs of her cousins. "Then I'd like to get to the funeral, if you don't mind." She made sure that the tone her mother often used with her was present in the words.

Harry grunted, as if struck. "After you. I insist."

* * *

The room where her grandmother's funeral was held was long and narrow, with a high ceiling. It was done in pearly gray marble, like smoke caught in stone, and had two straight rows of circular columns in matching marble. Her grandmother's coffin, and she nearly stumbled over the thought, lay at the far end, where her father and his siblings had already formed a line, all looking solemn in black dress robes. Her cousins sat grouped in the chairs near the front, and there was a small crowd already gathered, of family and friends, near the entrance.

Cate pushed through them, with Harry close at her heels. She wanted desperately, suddenly, to lose him in the crowd, but it wasn't big enough for that, and anyway, she was nearly the tallest of the girl cousins; she tended to stand out. George would have said that was a good thing. The silver spider twisted in her stomach, and the dull ache of its presence spread slightly.

She found a seat behind her sister, who was looking perfect, as always, with her husband beside her with his arm over her shoulder. She could almost hear Isabelle asking where George was, and hoped no one would ask.

Harry sat in the chair next to her, and Ron, who'd been behind a column near her cousins, moved to sit a few rows behind them. She felt flanked.

She turned to him, careful to keep her voice low. "Is there a reason you're following me?"

Harry looked hurt, suddenly. "I thought we were family now, Cate. Ron's saving a couple of seats for the rest of the family. We had to find someone to watch the kids. A couple of someones, actually."

Cate took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit…stressed. The moon, you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's fine. I understand."

Over the next hour, nearly a hundred people trickled into the room, greeting her parents, aunts, and uncles, and offering condolences. She was suddenly glad that she hadn't gone up there, yet; she didn't deserve the sympathy. Harry kept at her side, but the rest of the Weasleys- Molly and Arthur, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Percy and Audrey- were now behind them. She'd heard Molly ask after George, but kept her face steadfastly forward. She didn't hear what Ron responded, and was glad that she hadn't. Thinking about him hurt, both literally and figuratively.

Every time she thought about George, the spider took a tiny bite, and the pinches were getting progressively worse, as was the numbness. It was spreading. She wondered what it would be like to die from silver poisoning. She hoped it would be quick.

And then it was one o'clock. The line disappeared, and suddenly the chairs were full, and there was a hush over the crowd. Her father, with shaking hands, cast a spell over himself, and his voice filled the room.

"My name is Hierophant Moon. My mother…" He cleared his throat, looking down. "My mother wrote this before she…before she died. She told me to read it here, before you. She didn't want someone else to get the details wrong, she said." He looked at the sheet of parchment clutched in his white fingers. "We are here to mourn the passing of Andromache Elspeth Moon, though she always hated her first name. She preferred to be called Elspeth, with was, to her, a much prettier name, and much easier to say. She had always been fascinated by names. Just ask her children." There was a small chuckle, and her father took strength from it.

"Elspeth was born to Clarion and Electra Watson, and aren't those two names proof of how interesting names can be? She was the sister of Ophelia Watson, who died too young. Her parents both lived to be nearly one hundred and twenty, and retired in Scotland, where she had been born and spent much of her youth. She was born on February 21, in the year 1911, though she often said it was much sooner than that. She attended Hogwarts, and was a member of the Ravenclaw House, where she met her husband, Tarot Moon. They began dating late in their fifth year, after a particularly rousing Divination class. They married shortly after graduation, and began to travel the world. She claims that they'd have gotten farther if the War hadn't broken out not long after, and so they returned to England only a couple of years after they left and helped the war effort. And when the war was over, and Grindelwald defeated, they decided to start a family. A rather large family, it can be said." Here, Cate's father began to sob in earnest, and his sister, Cate's aunt Temperance, stood and took over the parchment.

Temperance's voice was calmer, though still rough with unshed tears. "My mother had seven children, and, because her husband's name was 'Tarot', she decided to amuse herself and name her children after the cards that had predicted that the two would marry. My eldest brother, Hierophant, was born first, obviously, followed by my twin brothers, Strength and Chariot, and then Justice, and then me, Temperance, and then the two youngest, Tower and Judgment. They lived a happy, peaceful life, until the First War with Voldemort."

There were a few shivers in the crowd, as well there might be. It had been years, now since the Dark Lord's defeat, but his name still brought fear to those who had survived his terror.

"In that first war, my mother lost her husband, the love of her life, as well as her twin sons, to the evil. But the years went on, and she gained grandchildren. And if they didn't quite make up for her losses, they were still her pride and joy. And then came the second war."

Cate shuddered. Merlin, no wonder her father hadn't been able to speak.

"In this war to end wars, Elspeth lost two of her grandsons, who were standing up for what they believed in, and died defending that belief. And though it was hard, she pulled her family together after that heartbreaking war, and they continued to grow, with the addition of new husbands and wives for her grandchildren.

"In the end, it was illness, not heartache, that took my mother from us. She wanted to stay, she said, but she just…couldn't. And so, she is now with her beloved husband, sons, and grandsons, and she is at peace."

Cate sat there, stunned into silence. There was nothing said about her grandmother's strength, her humor, her talent for wards and cursebreaking. There were just bare facts. And suddenly, Cate knew that her grandmother had written the words. Everyone who knew her knew what she had been like; there was no need to detail her many accomplishments, because she had been most proud of her family.

The people stood, and raised their wands. Cate joined them, her hand shaking, and Harry stood next to her, his eyes fierce. There was a low glow, and then nothing.

It felt anticlimactic.

Harry pulled her along as the line formed again, to say one last goodbye. And then, there was a voice in her ear, telling her that now was the time. As soon as they were in front of her family, in front of everyone, she would take the knife, and kill Harry.

There was a tingling in her fingers, and the knife appeared. She hid it quickly up her sleeve, grateful that no one could truly see in the crowd. Harry hadn't let go of her arm, and pulled her with him. Space opened in front of him, the Hero of the Second War, and she was dragged behind him. They soon lost Ron and the other Weasleys in the crush.

They were in front of her uncle, Judgement, and her Aunt Helena, and then her Uncle Tower and Aunt Sofia. She didn't know what she said, and knew it didn't matter; they wouldn't remember it anyway. Her Aunt Temperance stood shakily between her two daughters, who both had tears running down their cheeks. For the first time, she realized how alone her aunt must feel; the only sibling whose spouse had died. Uncle Justice was sagging, and Aunt Veronica was having trouble holding him upright.

And then they were in front of her parents. Her mother's face had two perfect trails of tears that made her seem even lovelier; her father looked haggard, and was sobbing heartily. Harry was offering his condolences. The knife was cool in her hands.

And they were in front of her grandmother's coffin, closed now, and Harry was holding her arm in a death grip. Ironic, she thought.

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him nearer, motioning for him to get close so she could say something. The crowd was loud, after all; it wasn't suspicious at all.

Harry was crying, too, she saw with surprise. She paused for a second, and the silver spider bit deeply. Wincing, she leaned over, mumbling.

He frowned. "What?" He leaned closer, his side brushing hers.

She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Tell Ron to make sure George is alright."

And she lunged, stabbing him deeply in the chest. He stared at her in shock before collapsing to his knees. There was screaming, she realized, and there was blood on her hands.

Harry reached out for her, and Ron was trying to push through the crowd of screaming bystanders. No one stopped him, but they weren't moving, either.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, and she sagged backwards, hitting her grandmother's coffin. At least George would be safe.

* * *

Updated as of October 2011.


	27. Chapter 27

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Almost, Love**

The walls of her tiny cell were bare of any ornamentation, and in fact, the tiny square room was empty of furniture, too. There was a heavy steel door with a small window opening where food could be passed through. A large mirrored window took up most of the rest of the wall; she could make out very faint movement, but only rarely, and she couldn't be sure that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.

She couldn't tell how long she'd been in here, but it had to have been longer than three hours. A boring three hours. They'd taken her dress robes, and shoes, and now she was barefoot, wearing dull gray robes that hung loosely on her frame. Her hair had come out of its knot, and hung around her face in tangles, getting in her way. She brushed them away impatiently with both hands; they were bound together, so everything involved both hands.

She had to pee. She had to know if George was alright as well, but that first urge was overriding the second. And the spider hadn't stopped moving since she'd watched Harry hit the ground.

She deserved the pain. She'd killed Harry Potter.

There were voices outside her door. She winced at a crashing sound, metal on metal, and then the little window into her cell slid open. One blue eye, red with tears, stared in at her, and then the door opened. She backed into the farthest corner; she didn't want to be trouble, even though she deserved everything she got.

Ron stumbled into the room, face red and eyes remarkably the same color. He clutched his wand in a bloodless fist, and his black robes hid the blood very well, though she could smell it. Another Auror, this one in their maroon robes, entered behind him, and the doors closed. This one held his wand loosely, though she sensed that he knew how to use it.

Ron glared at her, his wand shaking. "You will explain yourself to me. Now."

Cate blinked. "Is George alright?"

"George?" Ron snarled, taking a step closer. She shrank into the wall. "We haven't found him, yet, you stupid…" He reigned in his temper. "Did he know about this? Did he try to stop you? Is that why no one's seen him?"

The spider rolled, and latched into her stomach from eight different directions. She grunted, knowing that she still wouldn't be allowed to say anything. She said nothing. She didn't even attempt to say anything.

Ron took another step towards her, and the other Auror mumbled his name warningly. Ron fought to keep his emotions under control; it was fascinating to watch his face shift through them. She focused on that. Not on the blood on her hands. Not the smell of the blood on his robes. Harry's blood. She'd killed him.

"You killed Harry Potter in cold blood in a room full of witnesses. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" This from the Auror in the corner, his voice under tight control, as Ron's wasn't. She wished she knew his name.

She shook her head, wincing slightly. "No. Nothing. But I have to pee."

Ron snapped. He lunged at her, succeeding in getting a good shot at her face with the hand that held the wand as the other dug into her ribs. She wheezed as the other Auror pulled him off and escorted him out of the room. She could hear him shouting, and the sound of a fist hitting the wall outside of her door, before the other Auror reentered. Alone.

"My name is Auror Alvarez. Are you prepared to answer questions?"

Cate shook herself. "I really have to pee."

The Auror conjured a toilet and a screen. "Hurry, please."

Cate did what she needed to, and the Auror Vanished everything. She went back to her corner and huddled near the ground, holding her ribs. Alvarez looked concerned. "Do you need medical assistance?"

The spider bit deeply. "No," she gasped. "I'm fine. It just…I'm fine. It's nothing."

The Auror glanced at the wall, where muffled curses could still be heard. "Are you ready to talk?"

Cate shook her head. "There's nothing to tell."

Alvarez raised an eyebrow. "You stabbed Head Auror Harry Potter in front of a crowd of family and friends, at your _grandmother's funeral_, and there's nothing to tell?"

Cate shivered slightly. "Nothing. I did it. It's my fault."

Alvarez glanced back at the wall. "Very well."

He left, and she was alone again. At least she didn't have to pee anymore.

* * *

The spider was latched near her liver now, biting sharply. She grunted as it stabbed particularly deep, and curled around herself. Her skin was crawling…

She jerked her head up, hearing something at the door. A low growl started in her throat, and she caught herself crouching, preparing to spring. Her hair dangled in her eyes, shaggier and coarser than it had been only five minutes before. Her skin was crawling down her spine. A glance at her arms showed that the skin there, too, was creeping. She shuddered.

Auror Alvarez walked backwards into the room, arguing with someone on the other side of the door. He closed it behind himself, sighed in annoyance, and turned. And froze.

Cate felt the growl deep in her throat as the crawling sensation skittered up her arms and into her neck and shoulders. She sat crouched in the corner, fingers pressed against the ground and legs locked. Her eyes never left his face.

He took an unconscious step back. "Miss Moon?" he stuttered, and cleared his throat. "I mean, Mrs. Weasley, is there something wrong?"

She jerked backwards, hitting her back on the wall. "Get out," she growled, and her voice was low and gravelly.

Alvarez straightened and shuffled a step closer. "Is there something wrong?"

She snarled, trying desperately not to lunge at his throat. Her mouth didn't feel right. "Werewolf," she grunted, feeling sharp pain ripping at her fingernails. Soon, she'd have claws. "Get out. I haven't had potion." Her mouth kept moving, but she could no longer force any words out.

Alvarez paled. "These walls are strong enough to keep you in. I'll send someone by in the morning to check on you."

Her eyes pleaded with him to leave even as she locked her knees and fell to the ground, wishing she could scream in agony. She barely noticed as Alvarez darted out of the room and slammed the door, though she could hear shouted curses and spells. The door glowed blue for a moment, and then sharp orange, and suddenly there was silence. As the pain of the change rampaged through her body, it was joined by a sharp gnawing from the spider. She dropped to the ground, her legs unable to hold her. Flames tore through every muscle and bone, and her body contorted as it changed.

She stared at the mirrored window as her body went through the horrific process, and the last thing she saw, before the wolf took over, were her blue eyes turning fiery gold, and a snarling beast staring back at her.

* * *

She woke curled in the corner of her cell, and was surprised to have awoken at all. The mattress had been shredded, and she lay in a pile of fabric and stuffing. It clung to her hair and face, which was matted with sweat. She shuddered convulsively, and felt the spider bite harder.

The door to her cell opened suddenly, banging against the wall. She cringed away as three female Aurors, dressed smartly in maroon robes, entered the room, closing the door behind them. They, very impersonally, shot jets of warm water off of her, slicking away most of the sweat and debris. Then, the tallest of the three handed her a gray robe and helped her dress while one stood guard, wand pointed at Cate, and the other brushed out her hair. When she was mostly presentable, they opened the door, and, without a word, escorted her down a narrow hallway towards another room. One of the woman opened the door with a tap of her wand, and the other two shoved her through, closing the door behind her.

She stood shivering, barefoot, in front of five people, only one of whom she recognized. Gawain Robards hadn't really changed since she'd seen him last, but his face was marked with anger. He stood against the back wall, arms crossed, talking to another Auror, this one older with white wings at his temple and a stern expression. The other three, two women and a man, sat in chairs facing the door. One of the women, a middle-aged blond with a square face, tsked at her appearance, but the others affected not to notice her.

She backed against the door, pressing into the cold steel and trying not to shake. The blond woman opened a file in front of her and cleared her throat. "Let's begin."

Robards pushed away from the wall and took a seat in the only other empty chair; the Auror hadn't moved, except to draw his wand.

The woman tapped her own wand against a sheet of paper, and words began to appear. "This is an inquiry into the death of Head Auror Harry Potter, stabbed to death by Catherine Elizabeth Moon, werewolf. Madame Yolanda Yarrow, representing the Ministry of Magic, Madame Octavia Cole, representing the Werewolf Services Office on behalf of Miss Moon, and Sir Hector Albion, representing the Head of Criminal Inquiries. Gawain Robards is in attendance as acting Head of the Auror Department, and Damien Kittredge, representing the Auror Investigative Team." She sighed, then turned to the woman next to her. "Is there anything you'd like to add, Octavia?"

The other woman shook her head, not looking at Cate. "I honestly don't know why I was brought into this, Yolanda. I have little interest in protecting a werewolf with such clear criminal evidence against her, especially considering that no laws were broken in her capture or containment."

The man, Hector Albion, grunted. "We'd like no reports of injustice to reach the papers, Madame Cole. The Ministry knows exactly how werewolf rights groups would spin this if no representative from your office were present."

Cate raised her hand tentatively. "May I speak?"

Madame Yarrow raised a brow. "No." She shuffled the papers in front of her. "I don't even know why we're having this preliminary trial. The evidence is cut and dry."

Robards nodded. "I agree. In fact, let's get her back to her cell. It's clear what needs to be done."

The other Auror's expression didn't change, but his voice was grim. "I could escort her if you'd like, sir."

Madame Yarrow sighed again. "That won't be necessary."

There was a tapping at the door. Madame Cole looked irritated. "Enter."

Auror Alvarez stuck his head around the edge of the heavy steel frame. "Miss Moon's lawyer, sirs, madams. She'd like to speak to her client."

Robards stood quickly, and his chair fell to the ground. "I don't need to be here for this. Let me know when you've set a trial date." He swept from the room, brushing past Cate without looking at her. Auror Kittredge didn't move, except to straighten slightly.

Madame Yarrow closed the file. "Well, then. Escort her to the visitation room. The rules here are very clear, are they not, Octavia?"

Madame Cole stood. "Indeed, though I've no idea who would care to represent her. I'll make my recommendation to the Wizengamot, shall I? I vote for trial."

Sir Albion stood as well. "So do I. I see no proof that she did not commit this crime."

Madame Yarrow tapped the file with her wand, and large red letters appeared on the cover. "I concur. Very well. Take her away, Kittredge."

The Auror smirked. "Very well." He walked across the room and grabbed Cate. Tapping his wand against the door, he shoved her through, pushing her down the hall while keeping a tight grip on her upper arm. There were one or two other people in the hallway, but they all shot her glares, and one even spit at her. He led her towards the very end of the hallway, where there was a room with a large pane of clear glass. A woman waited on the other side, dress in somber robes with her dark hair pulled sharply back from her harsh face.

The second Cate saw that face, she tried to run in the other direction. "No," she sobbed, pulling away, but Auror Kittredge just pushed her forward. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the spider bit sharply, deeply, and she could only sag in pain.

The Auror opened the door and shoved her through. She hit her hip on the table and sank to the floor, crawling away from the woman. He raised an eyebrow. "You have twenty minutes."

The woman gave him a tight smile. "I only need five. Wait outside."

He left, slamming the door. Cate crawled to the wall, her eyes never leaving that face.

The woman leaned over her, smirking. "Did you think it would be that easy, Catherine?"

Cate grunted. "Where's George?" she whispered, feeling the spider crawl up her stomach. She gagged.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Safe, as I promised. But your punishment is not over quite yet." She ran a finger down Cate's face. "My little pet has another feature, don't you know. One little phrase and poof! We're gone."

Cate froze. "What do you mean?"

The woman tilted her head, dark eyes boring into Cate's. Her hand grabbed Cate's hair, her long fingers pulling hard. "Bad dog."

There was a jerk behind her navel, and she screamed in agony.

* * *

Cate landed hard on a stone surface, and the woman landed no less gracefully on top of her. If she hadn't been so stunned by the pain and the landing, she might have thought to struggle for the woman's wand, but before she could begin to think, she was bound and pressed tightly against a rock wall. She blinked in pain- the woman hadn't been gentle, and her head had hit the stone wall rather hard- before noticing the bound and struggling figure on the wall facing her.

Her heart sank.

It was George, looking no less angry than he had three days ago, when she'd gone off on her mission to save him. She gaped. "You promised!"

Madame Lawrence smirked. "I've done a great many things, Catherine. I wanted him to watch."

Cate struggled futilely. "Watch what?"

The woman grinned manically. "Your death, girl. And then, I'll set him free."

Cate frowned. "But, they'll know it was you…"

She turned, facing George. "I don't care. After you're dead, it won't matter anyway." She paused, staring at him, before clapping her hands together, sending sparks from her wand. "To begin…" She shuddered in pleasure, her eyes half-closed. "I'll need my pet back."

Cate stilled, eyes wide. "No," she whispered. The word echoed in the cave, and George began to struggle anew, shouting her name.

The woman ignored them both, shouting a spell. The brilliant streak of turquoise hit Cate in her middle, and she screamed as she felt the spider make it's way up her chest and throat, until she could scream no more.

* * *

Hours passed, hours where Cate screamed and the woman shouted curse after curse. Sometimes, she had to be revived, and once, the woman shot a spell that looked exactly like the Killing Curse at her, but it hit the wall beside her head and exploded. Shards of rock hit her in the face, and she could feel blood seeping into the collar of her filthy prison robes.

George was pleading for her, trying to free himself, anything, but his eyes never left her, even when she was unconscious. He railed at the woman, and soon there was blood on his hands and wrists from his struggles. The woman hissed and shot a Silencing Spell at him, returning to her work with Cate with a purr of pleasure, the silver spider perched, still bloody, on her shoulder.

Cate faded in and out. Sometimes, the pain was sharp and raw, and brought her immediately to her surroundings, but other times it was dull and distant, and she could feel herself floating above her body. At those times, George wept and the woman often shouted at her, pausing to heal some injury. Cate lost track of time, of the number of times she'd passed out, of the curses themselves. She felt only pain.

And then the woman laughed. "Finally!" she cried, seeing Cate sagging and broken against the rock wall. She turned to George, and said, "Say goodbye to your lover, the bitch."

George fought against the silencing spells, the binding spells, against everything, but he was bound tightly. The woman closed her eyes, laid back her head, and shot a final spell of purple flames. It hit Cate square in the chest, and she shouted in agony. The woman watched for a moment before releasing George.

She smirked at him as he struggled to get upright, and tossed him a scrap of cloth. "When she's dead, activate this Portkey. It'll get you home safe."

George stood on shaky feet, facing her, his face bloody and filthy. "Why?"

She glanced at the unmoving and silent Cate. "I had no issue with you."

George lunged towards her, but she Apparated away. He fell to the ground, stunning himself briefly. When he could move again, he crawled towards Cate, tears streaming down his face. He pulled her into his lap, his tears dripping onto her hair. He ran a hand down her cheek, but she didn't, wouldn't move. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, but still, she didn't stir.

He checked for a heartbeat, but she was burned so badly, and so broken, that he had little hope. He whispered her name, over and over, but there was nothing.

He jumped at a hand on his shoulder.

Looking up into the eyes of his littlest brother, he lost all control, and howled his pain at the world.

Cate was gone.

* * *

I've updated all the previous chapters for continuity and errors, getting everything in line for the last chapter...coming soon...


	28. Chapter 28

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**The Beginning in the End**

George sat in the hard wooden chair with his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. He didn't, couldn't believe that she was gone. After all they'd been through, after all she'd endured, he couldn't believe that it had ended like that.

* * *

He wasn't sure how Ron had found them, and at the moment, he didn't really care. His baby brother helped him to his feet and immediately placed him in the hands of two Medi-wizards in pale green robes. They'd gripped his arm tightly and Apparated away from the cave. George saw Ron lean over Cate, his wand held tightly, and heard him direct a couple of Aurors to search the cave. Then he was gone.

He'd been placed in one of the Spell-Injury wards, though he personally didn't think that he was injured seriously enough to require any treatment. The two Medi-wizards insisted, however, very forcefully, saying that they were under orders to Stun him if necessary. So he laid back on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, and let them do whatever it was they felt they had to do, but inside, he was seething.

They gave him a couple of potions, and he dutifully took them, gagging at the flavor of one and smacking his lips at the sickly-sweet ooze of the other. Soon, his eyelids were sagging, and he tried to rage at them for slipping him a sleeping draught. But the seductive power of the potion drew him in, and he could no longer fight it. So he slept. Dreamlessly.

He woke suddenly, jerking upright and throwing off the blankets. He stared wildly around the room, searching for something. Someone. His brain was slow to catch up, but then, with a howl, he remembered.

Cate.

He dropped his face into his hands and began to cry. It wasn't pretty, he thought, but he couldn't have held it in even if he had wanted to. When a hand was placed on his shoulder, he batted it away, but it returned, squeezing tightly.

"George?"

He recognized the voice, but that was impossible. He'd seen…

Looking up, he met the eyes of Harry Potter, very much alive.

* * *

George stared at his brother-in-law, for once at a loss for words.

Harry, however, seemed extremely happy to see him, and almost chatty. "You have no idea how glad I am that we found you, George, even under the circumstances. Are you alright?"

George's mouth moved, but he couldn't say anything other than, "You're dead."

Harry groaned. "Oh, bloody hell. Ron didn't tell you?"

George crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. "No. I saw him for about five minutes, and then they threatened to Stun me. I guess by the time he came around to visit, they'd drugged me."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I was never dead. We had gotten wind of an assassination plot, but, to be honest, we never would have suspected Cate. I was well protected, and nothing she could have done, short of the Killing Curse, would have done it."

George shook his head, relaxing slightly. "And even then…"

Harry grinned. "So, we let the news leak that I was killed, hoping it would flush out who was controlling Cate. She'd let on, though I don't think she knew how much, that you were being held for her good behavior." He looked down at his hands, picking at a fingernail. "We didn't know that your kidnapper had done something to her. We didn't expect what happened."

George nearly launched himself at Harry. "You didn't _expect_ it? But you thought something might happen? And now, because of you, she's…" He choked on a sob, overcome with rage.

Harry held up a hand; the other went to the bridge of his nose. "I know, and I'm sorry, but the Healers are doing all they can for her. It's not as bad as they thought, apparently, though there'll be some recovery time, apparently…"

George really did leap off the bed at Harry's words. His legs were shaking, and he was still dizzy from the sleeping potion. "What do you mean, recovery?"

Harry blinked. "Well, apparently they'd seen that spell before, and they were able to help. There was something inside of her that was interfering, though, and the last I checked, they were working on removing it…"

George grabbed Harry's collar, nearly lifting the smaller man off of the floor. "Where is she?" The words came out as half snarl, half desperate plea.

Harry loosened George's fingers. "I'll…I'll take you to her. You mean, you didn't know?"

George pushed Harry out of the door, not caring about his state of undress. "No, I didn't."

* * *

He followed Harry down the hall past the lift, to another corridor. George could have hit someone; she was on the same floor as he was, so close, and yet no one had told him… His addled mind, still slightly foggy from sleep, couldn't grasp that he had been asleep the entire time he'd been in the hospital, and no one could have told him if they'd wanted to.

They reached a door with a polished brass 17 on it, and Harry, with a second glance at George, swallowed and knocked. There was a hurried "Come in!" and Harry pushed the door opened, stepping to the side to let George in.

George nearly knocked aside a Healer as he rushed to Cate's side. His wife's face was pale, nearly as white as the sheets. Below her neck were horrific, half-healed burn scars. They'd bared her chest; the burns extended halfway down her arms and down to her hips, some areas more severe than others. She was surrounded by Healers casting spells, Healers dripping potions down her throat, Healers taking notes. He hardly noticed; all he cared about were the slight motions of her lips as she breathed.

One of the Healers, an older man with iron gray hair and dark eyes, pulled him away, just out of reach. "I'll assume that you're Mr. Weasley, as Auror Potter let you in. I'm Healer Aurochs."

George nodded, his eyes not leaving her. "Yes. What's wrong with my wife?" he asked, then took a deep breath. "Aside from the obvious."

Aurochs gave him a severe look. "Aside from the spell burns, which will heal nicely but still leave a significant scar, we found evidence of a magically animated creature inside of her; a silver spider, to be precise."

George blanched. "Yes," he whispered. "I saw…"

The Healer interrupted. "We have been attempting to remove it, but have been successful only in causing it to remain dormant. It has been eating away at the flesh of the patient's stomach, causing what I'm sure was extreme pain. If we knew more of how it had been created, what it's purpose was… As it is, even dormant, it causes some pain for your wife."

George nodded. "Yes. She's allergic to silver." He glanced up at Aurochs. "You know what she is?"

Aurochs nodded. "Yes, and that is working in her favor, we think. Some of the potions and spells we've done shouldn't have worked as fast as they have. We think that her condition is increasing the healing process, and if the spider itself is removed, we believe that she can only improve that much quicker."

George looked away from Cate and turned to Harry. "Have you caught the woman?"

Harry blinked at George, surprised to be addressed. "Woman?"

George nearly snarled in frustration. "The woman who started this, the woman who hurt Cate. Did you catch her?"

Harry pulled George to the side, away from the Healer. "Did you get a look at her? We weren't able to find any evidence of who she was or even where to begin looking."

George watched as a very young Healer dripped viscous red liquid into Cate's slightly open mouth. "I got more than a look. I know her name."

Harry clapped George on the shoulder. "This should be easy, then."

* * *

Even with the information that George had provided, it still took the Aurors three days to track down the woman. By that time, the papers had gotten wind of the fact that not only was Harry Potter not dead, but that he'd been involved in an elaborate plot to catch a murderer, and that the woman who had reportedly murdered _him_ was lying near death, waiting for the true killer to be caught. The fact that the woman probably hadn't actually murdered anyone was lost on the intrepid reporters of the Daily Prophet, who were touting her as a madwoman out for revenge on someone who hadn't done her any harm.

As most of the reporters didn't even know the woman's name, and the ones that did were currently sworn to secrecy, the stories were a full of speculation, and read like short crime novels. One enterprising individual had thought to connect Cate to the woman, and had even dubbed her "The Werewolf Killer," but the name had sent the public the wrong connotations, and it had been quickly dropped.

Harry and Ron worked non-stop for those three days, but it was a junior Auror, new to the team, that finally discovered the whereabouts of Ms. Susannah K. Lawrence, nee Thompson. After catching a good look of her through a kitchen window, the Auror had called it in to his superiors. Within minutes, a strike force had broken down both doors, cast an Anti-Apparition Jinx, and apprehended Susannah Lawrence. She'd fought bravely, they said as they dragged her into St. Mungo's Secure Ward, but had been taken down by a carefully targeted Stunning Spell bounced off of a mirror by the Great Harry Potter.

Actually, and Harry told this to no one but Ron, he'd meant to hit the wall next to the mirror to distract her, and had missed. It had been a lucky shot. Ron's laughter was heard down the halls, and Harry swore him to secrecy. Within minutes, both of their wives knew, and agreed, for Harry's sake, not to tell anyone, lest his precious image be tarnished. Harry had blushed, both in slight anger and actual embarrassment, and Ginny promised to kiss it better. Ron promptly gagged, and Hermione smacked his arm. And that was that.

Susannah Lawrence was uncooperative in the interrogation room, and so Harry resorted to stronger measures, giving her Veritaserum and asking her to explain, in detail, how to safely remove the spider. She gave him the deactivation spell, but said, honestly, that she hadn't cared about it's removal, and that she knew of no way, other than cutting it out of the body after deactivation.

Within a day, at George's (and numerous others, including Cate's parents and aunts and uncles, and George's siblings) insistence, a Muggle surgeon was brought in. She was the sister of a Healer, and so knew something of the Wizarding world. After a nerve-wracking surgery that took far longer than George thought it should, the Healers brought the surgeon out to talk to George.

The woman introduced herself as Christina Graham, sister of Healer Natalie Graham, who had assisted. She held out a hand and shook George's roughly, then briskly told him what she'd done. "I was quite impressed by the assistants I was given for this surgery, mind," she added when she'd finished. "It was all quite neat, hardly any scar at all. Now, this was a mix of Muggle and Wizarding techniques. I had to cut her open the hard way, but blood loss was prevented the magical way, and closure happened the same way. After the removal of the object, we were able to determine that the damage, though initially thought of as quite severe, was minimal enough, and able to be Healed magically rather quickly. She might experience some discomfort, later, and I'll go over some things for your Healers to consider, but all in all a very successful surgery. Now, I really must get back in there. My sister is going to show me a few techniques that she uses post-op, and I'd like to see them performed. Your wife should be out in an hour or so, and awake in about four hours." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Magic is truly amazing, isn't it?"

He gave her a humorless smile, and turned around. His entire family, minus the small children, and Audrey, who was watching them, waited for him. To one side stood Cate's parents, and her older brother, who had his arm around a tiny woman with pointed pixie features. He gave them a relieved grin and walked over to give them the news.

* * *

Cate stared at the ceiling for a good long while before she realized that she wasn't dead, and was, in fact, in a great deal of pain. She struggled to sit up, to perhaps see if there was someone there who could help with the screaming agony in her chest and ribs, but couldn't move her arms. Her attempts attracted the attention of a Healer in lime green, a woman with straight blond hair pulled tightly back from a handsome face and heavy dark brows.

The Healer rushed to Cate's side, drawing her wand. She pushed Cate gently back into the bed, casting several spells in quick succession, all but one non-verbal. When she was satisfied with the results, she turned back to Cate, her dark eyes full of sympathy.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm Healer Graham. Is there anything I can get you? Are you in any pain?"

Cate blinked at the woman. "It hurts," she managed to whisper.

The Healer Summoned a vial full of violently violet liquid. "This should help. Drink it quickly, mind; it tastes vile."

Cate gagged it down, but a pleasing numbness quickly spread throughout her body, leaving a slight tingling in her ears, and her eyebrows twitching madly.

The Healer turned to the door and opened it, speaking with someone just outside. She turned back to Cate for a moment, only to squawk in protest when she was shoved aside.

Cate let out a wordless cry as George flung himself at her, his arms wrapping around her body. She closed her eyes and felt the tears sliding down her cheeks, holding him as tightly as she was able. She didn't want to let go, but the Healer pulled George off of her and began to scold him, then cast a succession of rapid spells, annoyance in every line of her body.

George watched her, his eyes never leaving her, his hand twitching at his side, as if to grab hers and never let go. When the Healer was done, she retreated to a corner, warning George not to touch the sensitive scar tissue again, or he would be removed.

Cate glanced down at her chest, remembering discomfort at George's hug, but not knowing why. The last thing she remembered was Sukie's mother shouting, and then darkness, with George's voice whispering that he loved her, over and over.

George moved cautiously to her side, taking her hand in his and squeezing. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Cate shook her head. "No," she whispered; she couldn't make her voice any louder.

George looked back at the Healer, and steeled himself. "I thought you were dead."

Cate tried to squeeze his hand, but could barely move her fingers. "I thought you were, too."

George looked back at her, and his features softened. "Why are your eyebrows twitching?"

She shook her head, glancing at the Healer. "Pain potion."

George looked suddenly guilty. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she said fiercely. There was a knock at the door, and the Healer answered it, blocking whoever it was from coming in. "Who's with you?"

George looked back at the Healer, who was deep in conversation. "My family. Your parents. Nathan, and some girl. Your sister is having some pregnancy thing, and couldn't make it, and Audrey is watching all the little ones. Well, they're taking it in shifts; Hermione just got back."

Cate frowned. "Why are they here?"

George squeezed her hand, and his breath caught in his chest. "We thought…we thought you weren't going to make it."

Cate looked away. "I'm still not sure how I did."

George sucked in a deep breath and looked back at the Healer, still in conversation. "After that, that woman tried to kill you, the Aurors came. I don't know how they knew, but they were there, and I thought…but they healed you here. You'll have scars…"

Cate jumped in. "Scars? Where?"

George flinched. "You were…you were burned. But most of my family bears scars. I mean, look at Harry! His scar is famous!"

Cate flinched. "How can you just say his name like…like nothing happened?" Her voice was quiet, full of pain. "I killed him." She didn't add 'for you', but the words hung there between them.

George laughed, and Cate stared at him, openmouthed. "Harry's not dead. As usual." He nodded his head towards the door. "They knew something was wrong, and he was protected. All part of a plan, he said. Because you did what you had to do to keep me alive- and by the way, thanks a lot for that, love- they were able to catch the woman who did this to you. To us, I mean. And it's over."

Cate sucked in a breath, wincing as it pulled muscles in her chest. "Over?" How could it be over, just like that? She'd spent a good deal of the last three years worrying, panicking, running away, hiding…and it was over?

George leaned down and kissed her, and the thoughts that had been racing through her head disappeared. "It's over, love."

Cate couldn't help it. She burst into tears.

* * *

Cate lounged on the couch in her living room, ordering various brothers and brothers-in-law to move this box and that, shrink that piece of furniture, move that table. She had been ordered to rest, but moving day had struck quite suddenly, and she had a lot of work to do. She watched as everyone laughed and worked in concert; George was in their bedroom, packing clothing, his sister going behind him and refolding everything, their mother going behind _them_ and doing it just so. Cate's brother Nathan and his girlfriend, Grace, were in the spare room, supposedly shrinking the furniture, but there was a lot of giggling going on that said that they weren't really working. All of George's brothers- except for Percy, who hadn't been able to get out of work- were in the living room, moving furniture. Their wives- including Audrey, who had become a fast friend of Cate's- were in the kitchen, packing food and dishes. Within an hour, they were ready.

Another hour after that, and George, struggling, it had to be said, carried her across the threshold of their new house.

It had taken Cate years to convince George that living above the shop, while eminently practical for him, had not been what she truly pictured for their lives, and over the last six months, George had come to agree. They had wonderful memories of the place, but it was too small, now.

They'd found the perfect house not far from London, within Apparating distance to both of their jobs. It was stone, with three floors, wide open rooms, and a large attic, as well as a basement with windows. George had claimed the basement for his workshop; Cate, the attic and kitchen. A small woods filled the back yard, with a tiny creek running through it, and there was a shed at the edge of the wood, filled with garden tools. They could just make out the house of their nearest neighbor, down the lane.

The first floor was soon filled with furniture, some sober and plain, the rest the bright stuff that had worked so well in the apartment. There was the large kitchen with a small fireplace, perfect for Floo calls, a long, bright dining room, and a living room with a huge fireplace that dominated one wall. Within five minutes, George had charmed the bricks of the living room fireplace to match those at the apartment, and Cate grinned. She loved those bricks, and was surprised to note that she would have missed them.

They moved their bedroom to the second floor, leaving the third empty for the time being, and set up the spare room, with Molly dropping hints that she'd love to come and stay for a week, or two. Cate, always happy to see her mother-in-law, but usually in small doses, was happy to smile and not say a word, and leave the arguments to George. Molly opened the door to the room at the end of the hall, cooing about a nursery, but George stepped in and crowed that it was perfect for his office, which dominated the rather tiny space at the shop. Cate left them to it with a grin.

She went down to the kitchen, where Hermione, Audrey, and Ginny were unpacking the crates of supplies and Fleur was scrubbing the counters, muttering in French. The boys were all laughing in the living room, and she could see Nathan and Grace sneaking off into the woods, hand in hand. There was a slight chill in the air; it was October, and her birthday was in four days.

She jumped when she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind, and leaned back slightly into George. She had to be careful, now; she wasn't as tiny as she'd been three years ago, when they'd married.

George kissed her above her left ear. "Happy?" he asked, watching his sister dump half a bucket of soapy water down Fleur's leg, and grinning as Fleur retaliated by spraying her with the water from the kitchen sink.

Cate looked up into his face, now as familiar as her own. "Desperately."

He rubbed his hands along her belly, six months gone with his child. "Love me?"

Cate giggled. "Desperately," she said impishly. "I could ask the same."

George tickled her ribs, and she laughed, startling the women who were tossing water in handfuls at each other, making a huge mess. "I'm a holy man; I don't have to answer your questions."

Cate raised an eyebrow, and he grinned, flashing a look at her that both promised and begged. "Of course I love you, woman. I'm here, aren't I?"

Cate smacked his arm and pulled him down for a kiss, only to pull apart from him with a screech as Ginny dumped a bucket of warm water down their backs.

* * *

So, the end. I've edited the entire story, making sure everything led up to this, the ending I've been dreaming about and that's waited two years for me to get up and go! It's hard to leave Cate and George behind, but I'm happy with the way the story has come along and I know they're in a good place. Stay tuned for the epilogue, coming soon.


	29. Chapter 29

**Fury**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Epilogue**

Cate walked groggily into the kitchen. She still wasn't used to the quiet that the mornings brought, with all five Weasley children now attending Hogwarts. It had been a week since September 1st, and she still woke up appallingly early (according to her husband, who was still taking his vacation from the shop, something he did for the two weeks around September 1st every year since the twins had started at Hogwarts).

However, this morning, she'd woken George along with her. His mother, now a proud grandmother of fifteen, had requested all of her sons and their spouses, and her daughter and husband, attend a breakfast, as she had every month since the year following George and Cate's marriage. For years, the dinners were attended by every child, no matter how old; the breakfasts had been adults only, so that Molly could catch up on the news, and keep her children together.

Cate sipped on a strong cup of coffee, marveling at the peace in the practically empty house. She and George had chosen it for its size and location, but now, empty of the running, screaming children that had occupied it for the past fifteen years, it seemed a barn.

George stumbled into the kitchen, wearing only boxers. His eyes were half-closed, and his still bright red hair was mussed with sleep. Her fingers itched for her wand, just knowing that Molly would make a comment on its length. She handed him his mug of hot tea, and he breathed in the scent, leaning on the counter next to her, his legs crossed.

Cate smirked at his undress. "Are we walking around the house like this, now? A girl could get used to it."

George didn't open his eyes. "Take it all in, darling. I expect this to be the dress code from now on during the school year."

She kissed him, tasting the hint of honey that she'd put in his tea. "You're dreaming."

George opened one eye and scanned her body. "Clearly not. For one thing, you're clothed."

She smacked his arm and drained the rest of her coffee. "Get ready to go. Your mother expects us in half an hour."

George groaned. "We can't both have showers in that time." He suddenly perked up. "Want to share?"

Cate rolled her eyes, walking towards the stairs. "That might take a bit longer than half an hour." She paused on the second step, eyebrow raised. "Coming? We've got to make this quick."

She laughed as he swept past her, dropping the mug on the counter and grabbing her hand as he raced up the stairs.

* * *

They arrived nearly twenty minutes late, still giggling and holding hands. Molly said nothing, only shaking her now completely gray head at them and pointing to the floor next to Arthur's chair, the only remaining open space.

Each person held a plate and fork, and the half-finished meal smelled fantastic. Molly bustled into the kitchen and prepared two plates, floating them out to her son and daughter-in-law. When they were eating and Molly had settled on the couch between Bill and Fleur and Charlie, everyone resumed their conversations. Cate and George, mouths full of food, chose to listen for the moment, knowing, from experience, that the breakfast could go on for hours, leading into lunch, and pleasing Molly to no end.

Cate caught snippets of Ginny and Hermione's conversation, as they sat on chairs not far from her.

"So, I get this owl from Lily, right, and she begs me not to show her father, so I tell him it's about girl things. Harry gets this look on his face…you'd think, after all these years, he'd have gotten over it by now. So, anyway, Lily tells me this boy, I won't say who, asked her to go to Hogsmeade with her, and she had to say no, because she'd already promised Hugo and the Longbottom girls that she'd go with them, and then he spread it around school that she was a slag and had snogged him in the Astronomy Tower. Do you remember it being like that when we were there?"

Hermione shook her head, threads of gray already evident at her temples. "No, but then, Harry, Ron, and I were never really part of the normal crowd."

Cate found herself drawn to Arthur and Charlie's conversation as the girls devolved into talk of the War and what it had done to their relationships with their men. Arthur and Charlie were talking about Charlie's latest project: a breeding program in China that had shown a great deal of promise was being attempted at the Romanian preserve. Rhiannon had begged him to allow her to help; as a junior dragon keeper, she wasn't typically allowed near the full grown, mating dragons, for good reason.

She heard Percy and Audrey bragging about Lucy's new job, and Percy's promotion, as well as Audrey's ongoing attempts to get one of her children interested in the art program she was trying to build. "No, we haven't heard from Molly, but then, we didn't expect to so soon. She's just getting settled into Greece," she heard, in response to a question from Bill.

And then, "Yes, Teddy and Victoire have settled in nicely. And she's just said," Fleur added, nudging Molly. "She's just said to expect a new arrival soon." Squeals and congratulations were handed around, with George the first to call Bill a grandfather.

* * *

Molly cleared the plates away soon after, and an hour of conversation flew by before Percy stood and announced that, as always, it had been a lovely breakfast, but he was already forty-three minutes past when he'd told his secretary he'd arrive, and that was bad manners. Bill wasn't far behind, though Fleur wanted to stay and ask Molly for crochet patterns for a baby blanket. Harry and Ron left for the Auror office, Hermione for the Law offices, and Ginny headed home, to prepare for a game later that evening.

Cate stayed behind with Molly and Fleur, sending George ahead with Charlie, who'd begged his brother for some Wheeze or other; she wanted a recipe of Molly's that she hadn't been able to find the last time she'd looked. Arthur went out back to his shed, with Molly clucking under her breath that he spent more time out there than he had at work, before he'd retired.

Cate Flooed home a few moments later, recipe in hand. She could hear Charlie and George in the basement workshop, puttering around, with the odd quiet explosion following in the wake of their voices. She went upstairs to her own lab, setting the recipe on her desk as she went.

She had just put on her protective gear when there was a tapping at the window. Typical, she thought, stripping off the dragonhide gloves. Just when I've got a moment alone.

The owl was familiar to her, however, and she felt a thrill of excitement. It was Ciara, the screech owl shared by her youngest two, and she had a large scroll in her beak. Cate threw open the window, allowed Ciara in- the owl immediately fluttered down the stairs to the kitchen, where there was a roost- and ripped open the letter, laughing as she saw Emily's familiar scrawl.

_Hi Mum and Dad! _

_This is from both of us, Emily and Roxanne, though, since she's got terrible handwriting, I've been ordered to do all the scribing. _

Cate saw a splotch of ink, and could imagine the twins fighting over the quill.

_Anyway, this is to inform you that both Emily and I have followed Weasley family tradition- minus Andromache, of course, and Leo, but they don't count- and have been sorted into Gryffindor together. Professor Longbottom looked both pleased and a bit worried as the hat Sorted us, so I think he's probably heard of our reputation. Tell Dad thanks, by the way, for that prank he left us for Uncle Neville; it went spectacularly well. And no, Mum, I won't say what it was, just that we didn't get caught, and that's what really matters. _

_We've started our classes- at last- and while I think my favorite is Charms, Roxanne is insisting that hers is Astronomy. I think she's mental, but then, she always was. And Mum, please don't tell me to be nice to her, because she's standing next to me charming my homework different colors. Professor Oldbrine (who is new, since Professor Flitwick retired last year) says that she really thinks I've got a knack for the class. She's really nice, but most of the rest of the cousins think that she's cold and emotionless. She is, but not really. I don't know. _

_Roxanne would like me to talk about Professor Sinistra's recommendation that she read ahead in the book, even though I think Roxy is well on her way to memorizing the thing. _

_So, we've settled into dorm life quite well. Of course, it's easier since Roxanne and I have always shared a room; now they've just added six other girls into the mix. I've made friends with one of the girls, named Nina. She's an only child, so she's amazed by my stories of older brothers and sisters. She has a bit of a crush on Fred, but he's quite obviously taken with a fifth year Hufflepuff named Leah. He doesn't think anyone knows, so please don't tell him I told you. _

_So, while I've been writing, the others have huddled around and ask me to send their love, along with a message from each. Roxanne would like to tell Mum not to go through our room quite yet to clean, because she thinks she left a prank somewhere, and can't remember where. Of course, I think it's under the bed, but that's just because she's not very clever._

_Fred would like me to say that he clearly doesn't like Leah, since she's got a boyfriend, and that he left his Quidditch gloves in the top drawer of his dresser; could you please send them? Also, he said that Leo will send a letter later next week with his list of additional books from Diagon Alley, since he grabbed a catalog as we left Flourish and Blotts. I'm sure they'll all be Arithmancy-related, but then, he's a great big dork. _

_And now, from Andromache: she's going to send you something inside the letter. It's from one of her Professors, but she didn't say which. It's about a music program that she wants to go to. She's been practicing for it since they talked, and I think she might be very good. Did you know that she had a cello? Apparently, her professor lent it to her last year, and she's been learning on her own. The things you learn when you live together away from your parents._

Anyway, I've got homework to get to. Everyone sends their love, and I send mine as well. I expect you'll get a rush of letters at the beginning of next week, but even if I'm the only one writing, know that we're always thinking about you. (Fred said to say that. Apparently, he's not just clever; he's sensitive.)

_I'll write again next week, with more news. _

_Love you very much, _

_Emily_

George wrapped his arms around her from behind, looking over her shoulder at the letter. "Which child?"

Cate blinked back tears. "Emily, but they all contributed. She's a wordy little thing, I can tell you. I was not expecting…oh, George. Our babies are all gone."

Charlie blundered into the kitchen, his hair smoking slightly. He blushed and turned his back. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

Cate wiped a single tear away. "Don't worry about it, Charlie. Just being self-pitying. I'll just make us something to eat, shall I?"

George held up a finger to his brother, grinning. He walked over to his wife and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "It'll be fine, love. They'll be home for Christmas soon enough. And you'll hear from them quite often, I'm sure."

Cate smiled at him. "I just miss them, you know?"

George laughed, then looked over at Charlie, who was pretending not to hear. "Do you want me to get rid of Charlie and then we can…you know?"

Cate raised an eyebrow. "Ah. The benefits." She kissed his nose. "Hey, Charlie?"

Charlie turned around, a wide grin on his sunburned face. "Yes, Cate?"

Cate winked. "Give us an hour, okay?"

Charlie saluted her, and disappeared out the door, leaving Cate and George alone in the kitchen.

Cate sauntered towards the stairs, swinging her hips. She may not have been as slim as she once was, or as young, but she still knew how to get her husband to follow her. George raced up the stairs before her, grabbing her bum on the way past. Giggling, Cate followed. Christmas could wait. She was alone with her husband.

* * *

Charlie watched his brother and his wife run up the stairs, past the enormous window on the stairwell. They looked happy again. He watched the curtains fly out of their window, and heard shrieks and giggles. He cursed his sharp hearing, and aimed his wand at the window, gently closing it.

He spun on his heels, Apparating away, wondering if, and when, they'd notice.

* * *

I'd just like to thank everyone for sticking with me through the last two years. This story became my baby, and I'm going to miss Cate and George. There will be a couple of one-shots as follow-up, just because I can't give up on them. Thanks, so much, again, for being loyal readers.


End file.
